


Garden

by Sharcade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beating, Biting, Blood, Comfort, Crossdressing, Crying, Death Threats, Disturbing Themes, Eden Club, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Molestation, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Pole Dancing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revisiting Trauma, Rough Oral Sex, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Stripping, Suffering, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Trauma, Undercover Missions, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharcade/pseuds/Sharcade
Summary: Connor is willing to do anything for information, as long as nobody gets hurt. Those were his terms.(Warning: This fic contains graphic depictions of rape and trauma.)





	1. Chapter 1

Connor was designed for detective work.

Connor differed from human detectives for one crucial reason, he was willing to go to any lengths to complete his mission. Before he had deviated, such lengths had involved leaving humans to die, allowing himself to be killed, and disregarding the status of others in search of information. After deviating, though he retained his status as a detective, his methods had changed. Life had value to him. People had value to him,  _he_ had value to him. He would investigate to his full extent, just so long as nobody was hurt. If nobody was going to be hurt, there was no reason to avoid proceeding. Even if he may not enjoy the steps taken to acquire necessary resources, he would proceed, as long as nobody was hurt, including himself.

That being said, he couldn't say he was too happy that he had to return to the Eden Club once again after so long. Though it had some more desirable elements about it, it brought back memories. Memories of having his pistol trained on the pair of deviants in the back room, the muffled bass of the club thundering in the background as he was suddenly forced to choose between his purpose and his own kind. Connor shook himself clear of the thoughts, sighing as he looked up at the neon sign above the door,  _Eden Club_. Sexiest androids in town.

Hank had been requested to investigate with him, but after seeing the detective passed out and completely drunk on the couch, Connor decided it wasn't worth another hungover trip to the Eden Club with his partner. He would have to tackle this one alone. He stepped inside, keeping his eyes focused on the floor as he passed the rows of androids dancing seductively in their display cases. Admittedly, Connor wasn't completely  _disinterested_ in them, but he had more important things to focus on if he wanted to complete this investigation alone. He carefully sidestepped a pole display, proceeding to the back of the club where an android was splayed across the dark tile, her glittery body obviously damaged and powered down. He took note of the scene, analyzing as many details as his eyes could take in with one glance.

"No idea what happened, came out here and she was just like that."

Connor peered over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the vaguely familiar voice. He was quickly able to identify it as Floyd Mills, the establishment's manager. They had met once before, though they hadn't really spoken, on the occasion of the deviant case several months ago.

"Mr. Mills, hello." Connor started. "My name is Connor, I'm the android sent by CyberLife. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the case."

"Well what if I don't wanna answer?"

"It would benefit you to cooperate." Connor answered curtly. "It is in your best interest to get through this investigation so a similar event does not repeat itself.

"Last time you assholes stuck your nose in here, I lost two perfectly good dolls." Floyd reminded pointedly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Yes, and I apologize for the loss that you experienced."

"If I'm gonna talk, you're gonna make it worth my while."

"I am willing to cooperate if you are willing to as well." Connor informed. "Any information you have would be-"

"You willing to dance?"

Connor paused, his mouth still barely open as it had been when he was speaking moments ago. 

"Pardon-?"

"If you get up on that pole," Floyd started, gesturing to a pole as the male android clinging to it carefully stepped down and back. "And put on a good show, I'll tell you anything you need to know."

Connor furrowed his brow, he could hear Hank's voice nagging in the back of his head, telling Connor it was time to leave, that they would find their information somewhere else, that Floyd probably didn't know anything anyway. However, he could also hear the voice of his programming, the voice that told him he had to seek out information no matter the cost of it.  _As long as nobody gets hurt,_ he reminded himself internally. Connor squinted as he analyzed the chances of pain, the chances of damage, searching for some reason not to do this. To some extent, he knew he didn't need a pragmatic reason, the reason could simply be that he wasn't comfortable. To another extent, he knew he had to complete the mission, especially during a time where he was working alone. If he couldn't work without Hank, he wasn't a very capable detective, and that would show to those around him.

Connor gave a curt nod and stepped onto the platform.

"Woah, hey there, let's not get ahead of ourselves, get down from there."

Connor stepped down from the platform.

"Let's get you in the proper  _attire_ first." Floyd stated, walking behind his desk and rummaging through a small cardboard box left thoughtlessly on the floor.

Connor watched, loosening his tie. He swallowed.

"There we go," Floyd began after a moments' searching, holding up an outfit Connor could only label as  _skimpy._

It was similar to that of a women's one piece bathing suit, only it seemed to be strapless and skin tight, some sort of bustier built into it that made him wonder if he would even be able to fit into it.

"Put this on." Floyd instructed, Connor eyeing the outfit skeptically as he took it, using the moment's pause to analyze the size of the garment.

It would likely fit with a bit of effort. Connor took a deep breath.

"Do you have somewhere I can change out of my uniform?"

"Here'll do." Floyd stated simply, nodding at the ground.

Something deep inside Connor was causing his stress levels to rise ever so slightly. Though he had only started learning what it was to be a member of society, he knew it wasn't common to change into lingerie in front of ominous strangers. As true as that was, he also seemed to be at the mercy of Floyd's decisions for as long as he wanted this information. As soon as he began loosening his tie, he could hear Hank practically screaming in the back of his head, telling him how stupid of a decision this was. He ignored the voice in his head, the pleading in his subconscious that told him to  _stop._

He let his blazer drop to the ground.

Connor felt as though the more clothes he removed, the higher his stress levels jumped, his synthetic heart pounding in his chest as he exposed more of his body. After a few moments, he was completely naked, turning slightly so he didn't feel like all of him was exposed to Floyd. He picked up the lingerie, carefully stepping into it and pulling it up over his chest. He did his best to suck in his stomach, zipping up the bustier to the best of his ability. It was incredibly tight, but he had a feeling it was built to be that way.

"There you go. Now show me what CyberLife's fanciest new android can do."

Connor took a deep breath before cutting off the artificial rising and falling of his chest, deciding it would be more comfortable not to be breathing at a time like this, when his diaphragm had practically no room to expand. He stepped up onto the platform, placing one hand on the pole and taking a moment to decide what to do next. He felt exposed, he felt  _extremely_ exposed, now was the time to make quick decisions. He had to bring Floyd's heart rate to an ideal level for interrogation. Swallowing, Connor began, performing to the best of his ability whilst keeping his focus on his mission. This was all for the mission.

He knew how to pole dance, any android in modern times did. CyberLife tended to pile their technology on in layers, anything that older generations of androids had known would be transferred over to Connor, there was no point in throwing away good information, there was no point in making an android that was less advanced than its predecessors. For a moment, Connor wished he was awful at this. Maybe then he wouldn't have to do it. 

He felt his face grow slightly warm as his pulse sped up, Floyd's eyes were focused squarely on him, the older man's heart rate having increased. Connor took a short second to analyze the man. His heart was beating quickly, his blood pressure having increased. His core temperature was warming, and he was experiencing increased levels of dopamine, along with experiencing a fairly obvious erection.

It made Connor feel sick.

He continued with as much energy as he could offer, though he felt dirty and wrong about this. He felt sickened, he felt tense, his LED pulsing yellow in the side of his head. Floyd's heart rate continued increasing as Connor slid down the pole, practically straddling it as he brought himself back up, eyes fixed firmly down. He didn't want to look at Floyd right now. He threw his head back, Floyd's heart rate hitting the ideal mark. It was over. He could stop now.

Carefully, Connor dismounted from the pedestal, striding over to Floyd and trying his best to keep his head held high. 

"I hope that was sufficient."

"Fuck, CyberLife just keeps building you little shits hotter and hotter..." Floyd muttered, grabbing Connor suddenly by the neck.

Connor's breathing kicked in without his warning, his systems attempting to cool themselves as his pulse spiked suddenly, his LED blaring red. His gun was in his holster, which was on the floor, far out of his reach in this outfit. If the worst case scenario arrived, he had no way of defending himself in an emergency. 

"Mr. Mills," Connor began, his voice slightly raspy from the pressure on his vocal systems. "You assured me you would share your information with me after I performed for you."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Floyd muttered, pulling Connor closer for a moment before stepping backwards and letting go, starting towards one of the private rooms. "Let's go talk."

Probability of danger was 84%.

 _There's always a possibility for unlikely events to occur,_ Connor reminded himself as he stepped quietly in line with Floyd's path, his pulse hammering in his ears. He had to pull this off. If he didn't pull this off, he wasn't worth the effort that the force extended for him. He wasn't worth his badge. It didn't take a genius to see that Floyd had more in mind than he was letting on, but it would take a terrible detective to leave just because of that small fact. Connor furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought, probably too deep in thought considering he was supposed to be focused on his mission. 

It was proven fairly quickly that he was in fact too deep in thought when he was suddenly thrown forward onto the bed, Floyd on top of him, the man's erection pressing into Connor's thigh as Connor's cooling systems began to overwork. His breath was coming too quickly. He felt  _pain_ , it was a rare sensation for him, the way his chest couldn't quite expand properly under the tense fabric  _hurt._

"M-Mr. Mills-"

"God, I wonder how much it'd cost for an android like you." Floyd muttered, mostly to himself as he ran his thumb across Connor's cheekbone.

Connor resisted the urge to fight back. He wasn't supposed to fight back. Androids weren't supposed to fight back. Androids were supposed to take it, androids were supposed to take it and  _shut up about it_ , androids were supposed to take it and not be afraid.

But if that was the case, why was Connor's heart beating so quickly?

"Might as well give you a test run before I start pitching prices."

"I am not currently for s-"

"Get on your stomach." Floyd interjected, roughly attempting to flip Connor over.

Connor reluctantly complied, his hands trembling as Floyd held them firmly behind the android's back.

"Th-This is not the recommended use of my model." Connor stated, surprising himself slightly with the hitch in his voice. 

"Look's like your model's pretty fuckin' capable of it anyway." Floyd commented, unzipping the bustier of Connor's outfit. 

Connor's systems involuntarily inhaled, Connor coughing at the sudden rush of air into his body. He could breathe properly again, it seemed, though the increased exposure of flesh made him nervous. His stress levels were increasing. His pulse was increasing. He could feel Floyd's breath against his neck, he wanted the man  _off of him._

"Anyway, that info you wanted." Floyd began, yanking Connor's outfit down and running his hand down Connor's back. 

"M-Mr. Mills," Connor began shakily. " _Stop._ "

"You wanna be a good detective, don't you?" Floyd continued, his hand reaching Connor's ass. "So shut the fuck up, sit still, and be a good android."

" _I want to leave._ " Connor insisted, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"Not so fucking fast." Floyd snapped suddenly, slamming Connor's face back down into the covers. "You fuckin' move, I'll shoot you, don't you make me fucking shoot you."

Connor stayed silent, breathing shakily against the mattress. He stayed silent as Floyd pressed his head into the sheets, practically putting all his weight on Connor's head, Connor feeling as if his head would split in half. He stayed silent as Floyd thrust into him, Connor feeling his artificial skin tear at the sudden roughness and pain. He had never done this before, he wasn't made for sex, he wasn't made for  _this._ He was shaking, he knew he was shaking, but he didn't know why. He wasn't supposed to be scared. He wasn't supposed to hurt. He wasn't supposed to disobey.

Floyd's loud grunts and moans filled his senses, he didn't like them, he felt ill, he felt violated. He didn't even know how to define that feeling. The stench of sweat and lust was overwhelming him, thirium beginning to drip down his legs as Floyd played with his body ruthlessly.

"Th-The info," Floyd panted, thrusting animalistically into the android below him. "Wh-Whatever happened, it sh-should be...be in the girls' memories...a-any of the girls who saw..."

Connor felt icy cold and violently ill. He had performed for Floyd, he changed in front of him, followed him into a private room, he had let Floyd climb on top of him and violate his body, all for information, all for facts  _he already knew._  

For the first time all night, Connor felt tears jump to his eyes. 

He felt the sudden pain of Floyd's teeth on his shoulder, biting him hard enough to leave an obvious mark, one that Connor could heal quickly, but one that drew thirium regardless. He hated the biting, he feeling of Floyd's teeth and tongue against him made him wish he was dead. 

"F-Fuck, fuck, gonna cum-"

Floyd grabbed Connor by the back of the neck suddenly, flipping the android and finishing on his face, Connor's LED blaring red with repulsion as he shut his eyes tightly. He didn't want this, he wanted to go home,  _he wanted to leave._ His body hurt in places that it shouldn't, places that never should have been touched by a stranger, places that should have never been  _violated._

"I-I would like to leave now." Connor mumbled shakily, sitting up, unable to take his eyes off the ground, feeling cold and sick.

"Oh no, we're not done yet, that was just one little test run."

Connor's stomach dropped.

Floyd grabbed Connor roughly by the hair, yanking the android forward. Connor staggered off of the bed and dropped to his knees painfully in front of Floyd. The older man didn't hesitate, jerking Connor's head back before thrusting violently into his mouth. Connor instantly jolted, his systems trying to purge the foreign object as they would with any foreign object that had gone too deep into Connor's system. His throat sensors weren't meant for this, nor were they prepared for them. He noted that he would probably need to repair them after this event. The thought was quick and passing; Connor almost wished it had stayed longer, it was a distraction, it was something else that wasn't Floyd deep in his throat.

"Fuck, you're good, the hell do they have built into your mouth?!" Floyd moaned, throwing his head back as he sped up.

His fingers tangled in Connor's hair, jerking Connor's head forward as he thrust, crashing against Connor's sensors violently. Connor imagined that this was how gagging felt for humans, the need to purge an intrusive subject from the throat, the need to rid. He felt disgusting, trembling as his head was yanked forward carelessly. He was an android. He was a machine. If he had thought he may be alive before, that thought had been gutted tonight, he was seeing first hand what androids meant to humans. He was a toy. He was usable. He was something for a human to enjoy, to play with, he was disgusting, he was worthless, he was-

He was sick. He felt sick. 

"God, your fucking throat-!"

Floyd came again, Connor practically choking as he was forced to swallow, instantly feeling like the sickness and filth had entered all of his systems, all of his body, it was irreversible, he was disgusting from the inside out, he could feel it. His system automatically logged the DNA sample. Connor knew he would see the info on his terminal again the next day. 

He gasped for breath quietly as Floyd pulled out of him, Connor's hands shaking violently in his lap as he tried to regain some sort of composure. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this violated, this exposed, this  _sick._ He needed Hank. He wanted Hank. He wanted to go home, he wanted to leave.

"I-I want to leave." Connor practically whispered, more begging at this point than stating.

"You little shit." Floyd started, catching Connor off guard slightly. "You fucking thank me, you fucking thank me for being so  _generous_ to you."

Connor's stomach felt like it was twisting.

"Th-Thank you Mr. Mills-"

"Say it louder!" Floyd snapped, sudden rage flaring through the man as he backhanded Connor harshly, the android toppling slightly before catching himself. "Fucking thank me!"

Connor's mind was racing, he couldn't imagine why somebody would treat  _anybody_ like this, android or human, it was cruel. It was sadistic. Connor came to the conclusion that it was probably fetishistic in nature. 

"Thank you Mr. Mills," Connor repeated, trying his best to keep his voice steady and still.

"Now apologize, apologize for asking to fucking leave,  _apologize!"_

Connor felt Floyd's fist connect with his face, Connor's synthetic skin fading back as thirium dripped from the sudden gash on his cheek.

"I-I'm sorry!" Connor insisted hurriedly, barely able to hold himself up on his shaking hand, the other hand coming up to cover his cheek. "I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Floyd backed up slightly, his glare relaxing as he inspected the android's form, naked and shaking on the ground, absolutely pitiful by Connor's own standards.

"You can go check those androids now." Floyd dismissed simply, walking out without another word. 

Connor stared wide-eyed up at the door, panting, tears streaming down his slack face as he watched Floyd leave. This hadn't impacted Floyd at all. This had been nothing to him. He was perfectly fine, and Connor felt like his entire reality had just been ripped to pieces. He wanted to scream, he wanted to break something, he wanted to  _vomit._

He stood quietly, and exited the room.

His eyes were still wide and fixed on the floor, his mouth shut tightly as he put his clothes back on, ignoring the thirium dripping down his thighs and onto the floor as he pulled his dress pants on. The blood wouldn't stain, it would be gone in a few hours, not that Connor would care. He could see it either way. His fingers coiled around his holster as he gripped it, his gun wasn't there anymore, he assumed Floyd had taken it, likely the gun he had mentioned shooting Connor with in the private room.

Connor's stomach lurched.

He stepped forward on shaky legs, his mind racing with illogical questions,  _human_ questions, questions for himself, questions demanding to know how he could just be simply proceeding with his work after having experienced that mere moments ago. He pushed the thoughts down. They felt like they were clogging up his head, clogging up his throat, making it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to think. He felt like he was going to shut down. His body was practically on autopilot at this point, his mind too shaken and numb to care what he was doing at all anymore as he reached out and gently took the hand of the android swinging from the pole he had been dancing on mere minutes ago. His memories flashed through Connor's head, a man beating the Traci victim as she cowered on the ground, bleeding. He identified the man's face and logged it. 

**Mission successful.**

_That's all that matters,_ Connor reminded himself. Breathing deeply, he turned to the door, exiting the building on shaky legs as Floyd whistled at him. Tears were still streaming down his face, he couldn't get them to stop, walking was painful, moving was painful, he didn't want to walk anymore. He exhaled shakily, turning the corner quickly before dropping to his knees in the alley outside of the Eden Club, his entire form shaking like he was freezing to death. He slumped over with his shoulder against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his uneasy stomach as he tried to regain some composure. He needed some kind of release, he needed  _something_ , he didn't know what he needed.

For the first time in his life, Connor let himself cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor was cold.

It was raining fairly heavily as he staggered home, trembling slightly with his arms around his stomach. He would stumble every few steps, trying to regain his balance, but walking  _hurt_ , he didn't want to be walking anymore. He wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to wake up and realize that none of this had really happened, he wanted all of it to go away. Taking a shaky breath, Connor rounded the corner onto Hank's street, wiping the mixture of tears and rain from his face with an already damp sleeve. In a few moments he was on Hank's doorstep.

To an extent it was his doorstep as well, Connor had been living with Hank for countless months now. It had started with Connor realizing he had nowhere to go, followed by Connor sleeping on the ground behind the station for two weeks. It had been cold and wet and uncomfortable, much like Connor was currently. Hank had found him one night on the way out, and after an impassioned rant about how the system should be doing more to help androids, he had taken Connor in. Connor couldn't have been happier with his living conditions nowadays, he liked living with Hank, paying his rent in chores was fairly convenient.

He carefully palmed the doorknob, the door swinging open effortlessly at the recognition of his model. Hank had long since set up the door to recognize Connor, something Connor was thankful for, because it meant he didn't have to wake up Hank to get inside tonight. The tremors in his hands were almost painful as he stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. Hank was still unconscious on the couch, Connor hadn't expected much else, he hadn't been gone for long. However, something about Hank being asleep made Connor's entire body ache, he needed Hank right now, he needed Hank more than ever. 

Quietly, he padded down the hallway, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He could feel his stress levels rising, he was becoming overwhelmed, there was too much going on in his head. He gripped the edge of the sink, his eyes snapping up to meet his own face in the mirror, his mind palace flickering with activity as he analyzed himself. Elevated heart rate, half-healed cuts at the corners of his mouth, mussed hair, traces of semen both on his face and in his mouth, thirium on his neck and cheek, stress levels raised. He logged the information, quietly turning on the sink and cleaning his face of the filth that had gathered on it. He wanted to feel clean. He wanted to feel okay.

He looked up at himself once again, barely even able to recognize what he was looking at. It didn't look like Connor. Connor was stoic, organized, tidy, neatly groomed and intelligently poised. This Connor was disheveled, injured, dirty, stressed and confused and overwhelmed. He almost didn't know who he was looking at, he could only recognize the Connor in the mirror because it matched how he felt. Awful. Dirty. Shaky. Connor's fingers trailed down his side, his hand finding a place over his stomach as he paled. He took the liberty of scanning himself again, running a diagnostic as he counted the damages to his body.

He had stopped bleeding by now, but damage had been done to several parts of his body. There was minor damage to his face and head, as well as considerable damage to his throat sensors and simulated diaphragm. A sample of Floyd's ejaculate was still in his stomach, and once Connor had realized that, it was all he could focus on. He took a shaky breath, the air stinging his artificial lungs as he tightened his grip on the edge of the sink. He leaned forward, heaving as best he could with his damaged biocomponents coughing up the sample unceremoniously into the sink. Hurriedly, he turned the hot water on, his hands still shaking as the evidence in the sink was washed down the drain. He quickly collected some water in his hands, pouring it into his mouth before spitting it out into the sink, trying to wash away anything that could possibly be remaining. He wanted to feel clean, he wanted to feel  _nothing_ , he wanted to feel safe.

A short sob left his throat.

Connor was barely able to hold himself up against the sink, every part of his body feeling cold and weak and destroyed, he needed to lie down, he needed to rest, he needed to forget. He fumbled with the top few buttons on his dress shirt, inhaling deeply as he tried to cool his systems in the wake of his rising temperature. His thermoregulator was receiving too much thirium, it was being thrown off by his high stress levels. As much as he hated having his shirt unbuttoned, being disheveled and exposed, he needed to breathe  _deeper._  

It took him a moment to realize he was hyperventilating. He tried to steady himself, closing his eyes tightly, trying his best to block out all stimuli. It didn't particularly help much, his field of vision still being violently clouded with error messages, warning messages, and popups telling him to contact CyberLife. He could feel his stress beginning to peak, he was overwhelmed, he was crying, he was-

"Connor-?"

Connor's attention snapped up to meet Hank's eyes, the lieutenant's own eyes widening slightly at the look of the android. His face was dripping with cold water, his shirt unbuttoned as his chest rose and fell quickly with his ventilation, his hands shaking against the ceramic of the sink, his hair messy and his neck and pants spattered with blood. Connor couldn't even muster up the energy to sleep, feeling sick and broken, feeling  _cold_. Connor was cold.

"Holy fuck," Hank started breathlessly. "What happened to you?"

"I got into a fight at the Eden Club." Connor blurted abruptly.

He had lied. He never lied to Hank. 

"Well shit, are you okay?"

_No._

"Yes."

Hank eyed Connor skeptically, noting the blood on his inner thighs and the cuts on his mouth. Hank was old, Hank was a drunk, but Hank was also one of the best detectives in Detroit.

"Just a fight?"

"Just a fight, Lieutenant. However, I did identify the attacker. I have the event on video. I will upload it to Detective Fowler as soon as possible."

"Alright, good work kid." Hank yawned. "I'm gonna head to bed."

"Goodnight Lieutenant.

"G'night Connor."

The door swung shut and Connor stood silently, staring at the door, his eyes not eager to return to the mirror. He rubbed his throat gently, easily feeling the damage that had been done to his sensors. They were fragile, they weren't meant for what had been done to them. He swallowed thickly, not knowing where to go from here. Was he supposed to just return to the couch and go to sleep? Return to work the next morning? He forced the thoughts away, bringing himself back into the moment. He was standing in the bathroom. He was disheveled and dirty. He had to shower. He had to take his clothes off.

Connor didn't want to take his clothes off.

Brushing his hair out of his face, Connor turned, starting the shower as he slipped out of his shoes. Wordlessly, he stepped into the shower, turning the heat up as far as he could handle it. The water was scorching against his skin, which did little to help calm the already suffocating heat in his body. He didn't care. He wanted to get  _clean._ Letting out a shaky breath, he allowed the water to strike his face, practically burning him. He would make himself clean if it meant scrubbing himself raw. He dug his nails into his skin, watching it fade under his touch, tears springing to his eyes as pain rushed through him,  _he wanted to be clean._

He was practically clawing at his own skin, trying to pick away the dirt, the filth, the ghostly hands that still ripped at his back and his hair and his head and his legs and his throat and his mind, he needed to be clean, he needed to be clean, he could feel the thirium running down his shoulders as he dug his nails into the filth of himself, pain coursing through him, he wasn't clean enough, he wasn't clean enough, he wasn't clean enough,  _he couldn't be clean enough._

He jerked his hands back, pressing them against the cold tile of the shower wall as the scalding water pelted down on him, steam filling his lungs as he panted. His breaths were coming deep and strong and quick, his body was trying to cool itself down, and Connor wasn't helping in the slightest. The extra energy being expended was exhausting him. Still panting, he shut off the water, dropping to his knees as his drenched clothes hung from his bloodied shoulders like curtains. Connor let his head fall back, steam leaving him as he tried to catch his breath again. He was still dirty. After all of that, he was still dirty.

He couldn't muffle the groan of pained frustration that left him, his nails scratching violently at his scalp as he tried to erase every feeling of Floyd's hands against him, pressing him into the sheets, running down his back, gripping his throat. Connor pulled his shaking hands away once again, staring at the thirium that had begun coating his fingertips and rolling down his neck. He placed a hand on the edge of the bathtub, ignoring the blue smudges left behind by his touch as he carefully stood, staggering out of the bathroom in an overheated daze. Dirty. He was dirty. He was tired.

Connor dropped onto the couch, panting quietly as the water weighing him down began to soak into the cushions below. The ringing and beeping in his head was incessant, error messages clouding his every thought as he struggled to make sense of everything that had happened. It was hard to think, especially when he was overheating, especially when he was overwhelmed. Thoughts were swimming through his head without him managing to catch a single one, unable to focus, unable to breathe, unable to pin down a single idea. His systems were struggling to regain normalcy, struggling to regain control. Connor stared up at the ceiling blankly, his chest rising and falling. He was a machine. He wasn't supposed to be hurt, he was a  _machine._

He wanted to feel something other than pain. Other than disgust, other than nausea. Dizziness. 

His LED flickering with action, Connor located the footage of the Traci attack from hours prior, uploading it to Captain Fowler before allowing his eyes to close. He could still feel those hands, running all over his body, touching him, violating him. He could still feel the teeth on his neck, Floyd's eyes locked on him. It felt like something was crawling under his skin. Connor took in another shaky breath, his body far too hot to cool down anymore. He let the air out, allowing heat to overwhelm him as his consciousness began to slip away.

He would handle it in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Pulsing. All he could hear was pulsing. His heartbeat hammering in his ears. Connor tried to open his eyes, meeting only blackness in return, finding himself completely immobile, hands snaking up his legs like chains, and then-

"-nor! Connor, fucking Christ!"

Connor's eyes shot open, there was pressure on his shoulders, Hank's hands, Hank was shaking him. He jerked backwards quickly, scrambling against the back of the couch and staring at Hank with wide eyes, panting. Hank stared back in surprise, the house silent save for Connor's heavy breathing. Connor was still sopping wet, he imagined he hadn't been unconscious for very long.

"Fuck, kid, what the hell happened to you?! You're drenched!" 

Connor's vision was still flustered with error notices, error notices he had already closed a dozen times before that just wouldn't stay down. He could still hear his pulse pounding loudly in his ears, he could still feel cold blood sticking to his skin, and he was  _cold._ The hot clothes had cooled on him quickly, leaving him a soaking wet mess of blood and water and cuts. 

"Connor? You hearing me?"

"Wh-What time is it?" Connor stammered, finding himself unable to focus on his internal clock.

His voice came out much more disfigured than he had expected, laced with static and concerning electrical tones that Hank chose to ignore until he had figured out the rest of what was going on.

"It's seven in the morning,  _why the hell is there blood on your fingers?"_ Hank pressed, moving slightly closer to inspect Connor.

Connor recoiled.

"I sustained some damage during my fight at the Eden Club." Connor stated curtly.

To an extent, he wasn't lying. There had been a fight of sorts, until Floyd had threatened to shoot him. Along with that, damage had definitely been sustained.

"You didn't have blood on your hands last night." Hank pointed out, squinting slightly and raising an eyebrow. "And you also weren't this fucking wet."

Connor felt his stress levels rising, why couldn't he tell Hank? He wanted to tell Hank, he wanted to tell Hank everything, he wanted Hank to know. But then the doubt started setting in. What if Hank thought he was disgusting? What if Hank was ashamed of him, what if Hank was angry at him for not fighting back? What if Hank didn't want him in the house anymore? He would be back to sleeping behind the department on top of garbage bags. He needed an excuse, he needed an explanation, he needed to  _calm down._ He could feel his breathing quickening as his systems began to speed up, he couldn't think of anything, his head hurt too badly, he was too damaged. He wished Hank had stayed asleep a little longer, just a few hours longer, long enough for the blood to evaporate, long enough for his clothes to dry.

Hank's expression softened slightly as he looked over Connor. The android looked more fragile than Hank had ever seen him. His clothes clung to his cold body loosely, tiny spatters of blood decorating his neck and shoulders, small scrapes and cuts clouding his face. Something had clearly happened, something more than a simple fight. Hank had seen Connor go through worse than simple fights and come out completely unscathed. Something was on Connor's mind, something was causing him stress, and at this point, Hank only wanted to know so he could help.

"We should get going," Connor started, noting his voice had drastically decreased in quality once again. "We don't want to be late for work."

"Connor, fucking look at you!" Hank snapped incredulously, gesturing to Connor. "Something fucking happened, we can't just go to work!"

"I like to be on time."

"Why are you wet?!"

"It sets a good precedent."

"Why are you  _bloody?!"_  

"I would also like to see if Captain Fowler received my footage."

Hank eyed Connor for a moment before sighing in defeat, standing up.

"Connor." he started, rubbing the back of his neck and stretching.

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"You know you can tell me about stuff that's botherin' you, right?"

Connor was quiet for a moment.

"Of course, Lieutenant."

His LED flickered yellow.

"Hell, whatever, go get changed." Hank muttered, sliding his coat on.

"Of course Lieutenant."

* * *

The drive to work had been silent. 

Connor didn't feel much like talking, and Hank didn't feel much like pestering him any further about the events of last night. The android had cleaned himself up slightly, though his voice was still raspy and at times unclear. The blood had been rinsed from his body, though Hank couldn't help but notice a small nick at the corner of Connor's mouth that didn't seem to want to go away. Connor had been fairly quiet, keeping his head rested against the window as they drove. The blaring noises of his warnings coupled with the pressure of Floyd's weight from the night before had manifested in the form of a fairly bad series of headaches. Connor didn't even know he could experience headaches, but it seemed like the overwhelming input of commands to his head mixed with the already damaged cranial biocomponents he was harbouring had done the trick fairly nicely.

When Hank had pulled the car up to the building and parked, he had paused and turned to Connor before going inside.

"Listen, kid, if there's something you wanna tell me, just get it out."

Connor had stared forward stoically, as always, and curtly informed Hank that he was alright. Nothing was wrong. Hank shouldn't be worrying.

Connor was now situated at his desk, trying his best to ignore the pain that sitting was causing him. Everything felt numb. His environment felt muffed, like nothing was there at all, like he was completely isolated with his thoughts. He felt like he was outside himself, his body simply going through the motions as he struggled to function. Everything was exactly the same as it had been forever. He had woken up on the couch, he had arrived to work with Hank, everything was the same. It was like nothing had happened at all. Perhaps if he kept telling himself that, it would seem more real.

"Hank! Connor! In my office!"

Connor was snapped out of his thoughts abruptly, his head suddenly festering with noise as he was thrown back into reality. The sound of the bustling station around him roared, and he wished internally that he could stay dazed forever, stuck in a state of numbness, stuck in a state of thought.

"You comin'?" Hank questioned, eyeing Connor.

The android quickly stood, his eyes flickering to Captain Fowler's office.

"Yes Lieutenant."

Connor trailed closely behind Hank, closer than he typically would. He wanted to be near Hank, Hank felt like a guardian, especially now that Connor was left without a gun. He couldn't possibly reveal that he had lost his gun.

"I want to talk to you two about the footage from last night's scene." Fowler began, his eyes fixed on his screen as Hank took a seat, Connor taking the seat next to him.

"I retrieved the footage from the memory of an Eden Club android." Connor informed. "He was witness to the scene and recorded the event. I was able to extract the footage and upload it directly to the department."

"You mind if we take a little look at it together?"

"Please, proceed." Connor replied, tilting his head to the side.

Fowler tapped his screen, the footage beginning to roll. Connor watched as the attacker approached the Traci model, battering her violently. Something about the scene sickened him, something about the fluorescent pink lights and vibrating bass music unsettled his stomach, something made him want to flee.

"So? What's the problem?" Hank questioned, folding his arms.

"Keep watching." Fowler muttered.

Connor watched as his own figure stalked into frame, approaching Floyd and initiating the investigation. He paled.  _He had forgotten to crop the footage._

Hank glanced over at Connor, raising an eyebrow slightly. The android's face was pale, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly as he started at the screen. Hank noticed the light tremble in his hands, the way Connor's shoulders slumped in his daze. Connor's own eyes followed himself on the video as he tossed his tie to the ground, his blazer sliding off of his shoulders as his bare back came into view. 

"You fucking  _stripped?_ _"_

Connor swallowed, closing his mouth, his eyes locked on the screen.

He watched as the footage of him zipping up the tight bustier rolled, feeling like his breathing had been restricted all over again. He felt like he was choking. He watched himself step onto the brightly lit pink pedestal, his tall form straddling the pole as he began to perform.

"Connor," Fowler started firmly, scrubbing through the footage, resuming at the point where Connor entered the private room with Floyd. "I'm glad you got whatever you needed, but this isn't an appropriate or approved method of investigation."

Connor could feel his hands shaking, the footage was still and unfaltering, he knew it would be like that for several minutes longer. Part of him wondered if Fowler had even seen how the reel ended. His mouth was dry, his stress levels reaching a steady 87% as he was made to stare into the dimly lit venue of the Eden Club.

"You fucking stripped for Floyd Mills?!" Hank snapped, jumping to his feet. "You go on one mission by yourself and fucking strip for the guy?!"

Connor's mind flashed back to the Eden Club, Hank's voice in the back of his head, he remembered it, he remembered knowing how upset Hank would be if he had been there, he remembered ignoring it.

"I-I needed the information." Connor mumbled quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes drifted to the floor.

Hank softened in surprise, watching Connor. He hadn't expected that kind of reaction.

"Connor...?"

A loud, grizzly moan echoed from the footage. Fowler perked up, raising an eyebrow quizzically at the screen. Connor's stomach dropped,  _Fowler hadn't seen this far._

"T-Turn it off."

"What? Connor-"

"T-Turn it off!" Connor snapped sharply, jumping to his feet and clenching his fists tightly at his sides as he tried to calm his breathing.

_"God, your fucking throat-!"_

Fowler and Hank both froze. There was a moment of mutual silence before Hank's eyes drifted towards Connor. The android seemed to have caught himself in a numb daze again, wide-eyed and staring at the screen as the club music vibrated through the room.

_"Now apologize, apologize for asking to fucking leave, _apologize!"__

_"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"_

"Connor...?"

A small hiccup came from the android's throat, his tense fists having opened limply at his sides as he watched the screen, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"Jeffrey-"

"I'm on it, I'm on it." Fowler muttered quickly as he shut off the footage.

The room was briefly silent, only populated by the sound of Connor's quiet hiccups and sharp inhales. Hank had no idea what to do, he wanted to grab Connor and hug him, hold him, tell him that everything was going to be fine, but he knew Connor wouldn't want to be touched. The footage made Hank nauseous, the sound of Connor crying out his apologies as if any of what had happened was Connor's own fault, as if he had anything to apologize for in the slightest. No, if anything, it was Hank himself who should feel guilty, who should feel awful. If he hadn't been drinking, if he hadn't been asleep, if he had been here with Connor, none of this would have happened.

Connor would have been fine.

"Jeffrey, let me take him home." Hank mumbled briskly, more of a demand than a request. 

Fowler nodded quickly, closing the footage completely and powering off the screen as Connor's eyes stared into the blackness, his form still trembling. Connor felt like all eyes were on him, it was attention, it was pity, it was  _exposure._ He felt sick. He felt cold. He felt empty. 

"Connor, wait, hold on-!"

Connor could barely hear Hank calling to him, he was moving too quickly, speed walking briskly towards the bathrooms, Hank staying put with his hand extended, watching Connor go, unsure of what to do. Connor didn't care, he had to get away, he had to find release, he had to find calm, he had to find relief, he had to be _clean._  

And clean he would be. 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of self harm.

The second Connor had entered the bathroom, he locked the door. He backed against the door, tears pouring down his face as he struggled to catch his breath,  _he wasn't okay._ Something was happening, something he didn't understand, something deep inside him that told him he needed to be  _clean._ He could hear Hank calling his name, but frankly, it didn't even sound like his own name anymore. He felt nameless, he felt stripped of identity, who was he now? Because he certainly didn't feel like the same Connor he had felt like yesterday morning. He certainly didn't feel like the blank template RK800 model he had been produced as. He certainly didn't feel like the determined police detective, or the daring deviant ally, or the curious and lively individual he had become over the past few months.

He approached the sinks on weak legs, touching his face lightly with trembling hands as he stared into the mirror. He could feel his breath hitching and hiccuping, breathing  _hurt_ , the damage done to his diaphragm  _hurt_ , his head  _hurt_ , why did  _everything have to fucking hurt?_ He balled his shaking hands into tight fights, his expression contorting into a look of pain and frustration and fear that he wasn't used to, he was used to any of this, he wasn't programmed for this. This was irrational. This was deviant behaviour, and while Connor knew that he was well past the point of being a deviant, something deep in his programming was telling him to  _hate himself_ for it. 

So he did. He hated his fear, he hated his pain, he hated himself, and he hated being  _dirty._  He let out a choked sob, clapping a hand over his mouth to silence himself and closing his eyes tightly as he tried to feign some kind of control. That's what Connor wanted, control. He wanted to feel like he was in charge of what was happening again. He gripped the edge of the sink, opening his eyes slightly to analyze himself. His body was trembling, just enough to be noticeable. His hand was over his mouth, his face was wet with tears and flushed with shame. His mind flickered back to the footage in Captain Fowler's office, the expression of begrudging humiliation that had plastered his face as he had danced for Floyd, the empty stare he had been left with while pulling his discarded clothes back onto his shaking frame. He was sorry. He was sorry, he remembered screaming it out, anything to get Floyd to stop hitting him,  _he was sorry._

Connor could hear Hank trying to get his attention, a futile effort in Connor's mind, he was barely listening to anything. He felt his grip tighten, his nails digging at both the porcelain of the sink and the sink of his face. Pain rushed through him as the skin on his cheek faded, leaving a few tiny droplets of blue blood in their wake. It almost felt relieving, it was something he was in control over, it was picking away at the grime, picking away at the dirt, picking away at the  _filth_ that felt like it was still coursing over his entire body, over his skin and down to his biocomponents. Connor's breath came shaky as he slid his hand down to his arm, rolling up his sleeve carefully and trying the method again. He dug his nails into his skin, dragging them fiercely down his arm as blood rose to the surface one again. Another rush of pain. Another rush of tears. He had to be clean,  _he had to be clean._

Much more violently than before, Connor tore his nails down his arm, flesh fading away to reveal grey plastic coated with blue blood. It was like an itch he couldn't quite scratch, like it was under his skin. It made sense then, that the only way to feel like he was cleaning himself of the filth in him was to tear up the skin. He scratched at his arm rapidly, skin fading away faster and faster as he worked his nails up his arm, his breaths coming short and quick, his pulse building as his adrenaline increased, he was getting clean, he was getting clean,  _he had to get clean, he-_

Connor's hand jerked away from his arm, the android startled by how much blood he had actually drawn. It was beginning to drip into the sink and onto the tile, Connor's vision blurring slightly as he tried his best to analyze the damage he had done to himself, his vision flooding with messages urging him to contact CyberLife. He looked over his hands, both hands dripping with blue blood and spattered lightly with tears, what was he doing? He was worried about acting irrationally, and yet here he was ripping up his own flesh. He slid his bloody, trembling hands up his chest, ghosting them over his neck. It felt like Floyd's hands were still clutching his throat, they had never stopped, they were still gripping him so tightly that he could barely breathe. 

He dug his nails in.

As soon as blood had been drawn from his neck, his vision was flooding with so many emergency notices it was hard to see straight. Connor had expected that, any damage to the head, throat, or heart would cause that type of response. He could feel blood beginning to run down his collarbone, he was  _mutilating_ himself, it was  _terrifying._ His eyes flickered up to meet themselves in the mirror, wide with a flurry of emotions as Connor panted, noting the way he was shaking like a scared animal. In a way, he imagined, that's what he was. But the more he picked away at his skin, the better it felt, the  _cleaner_ it felt, he was finally going to rip Floyd's phantom hands from his neck, from his throat, from his body, from his skin, from his  _mind._ He dug his nails in deeper, rapidly scratching at his neck as his heart rate increased, the pain becoming near unbearable as blood began to pour down his neck, he was digging too hard, he was cleaning too thoroughly,  _he had to get clean._

Suddenly, there were hands around his wrists, yanking them from his neck as Connor was whipped around to face the person who had dared to grab him.

"Holy shit, what the fuck are you doing?!"

Connor's eyes locked with Gavin's, the young detective wearing an expression of absolute panic as Connor's blood dripped down his own wrists. Connor silently cursed himself for not checking the stalls before locking the door.

"Oh my god, what the fuck, you're bleeding everywhere-"

Connor jerked his wrists away, digging his nails into them sharply as he backed against the sinks, trying to scrape away the areas Gavin had touched, he didn't want to be touched, he didn't want to be grabbed. He wanted to be clean.

"D-Detective Reed," Connor muttered through clenched teeth, his own voice like sandpaper grinding on his eardrums. "You should go."

Connor's senses were beginning to mix into a slurry of nothing, sound barely registering as pain flooded all of his systems, the only thing his eyes could focus on being the blood seeping into his dress shirt as his sleeves slipped limply down his arms. Gavin didn't seem to know what to do, his eyes filled with both awe and genuine fear as he watched Connor practically tear himself apart.

"Hey, h-hey, don't do that shit." Gavin commanded, grabbing Connor's hands. "You're fucking bleeding everywhere."

Connor jerked his hands away once again, backing up as tightly as he could against the wall before sinking down to the floor dizzily, his systems beginning to falter with the thirium loss he was experience.

"I'm gonna go get Hank, okay?" Gavin informed hurriedly, waiting for a dazed nod from Connor before bolting out of the bathroom, practically tearing the lock off of the door in an attempt to get out quickly.

Connor watched as thirium flowed freely from his arms and fingers, pooling coldly on the floor. He could feel droplets running down his chest, soaking into his crisp white shirt from his neck. It was almost ironic in his mind, in an attempt to get himself clean he had made a massive mess. The bathroom was silent, the only sound that of the occasional drop of thirium falling from the edge of the sink and spattering against the ground. He could hear his quiet breaths so loudly in his ears it was painful, he could hear Gavin's muffled and frantic yelling outside of the bathroom, met with equal yelling from Hank before the sound was interrupted by that of the bathroom door flying open.

Connor could barely process his surroundings anymore, though he was aware of Hank in front of him, shaking him lightly by the shoulders. He flinched away, and instantly, Hank's hands were gone. Connor could hear more frantic yelling, more panic, what was everybody so upset about? Connor himself was just tired, tired but clean. At least, that's what he would have liked, but he could feel it distinctly, he could feel the grime still clinging to him, Floyd's hands still trailing like spiders down his back, pulling at him and pushing on his throat, no amount of clawing had managed to rip those hands from his flesh. Maybe he just had to claw a little harder.

He had almost forgotten Hank was in front of him until Hank's hands were on him again, pulling off Connor's tie. Connor struggled subconsciously, letting out a quiet whimper of distress as his tie was removed, Hank tying it tightly around his upper arm. Connor could tell Hank was trying to cut off the bleeding, a practice that wouldn't do much good, androids didn't work quite like that. He felt another strap around his other arm, one he was able to identify as the drawstring from Gavin's dark leather jacket. Was Gavin here? Connor couldn't really tell anymore.

Connor realized rather suddenly that he had no idea how long he had been in the bathroom. Everything felt like it had gone by in both the spam of a single minute and the span of a single hour. He wondered for a moment if it mattered.

"I don't think he can hear me-"

Connor couldn't even tell who was talking. He assumed it was Hank.

"M'listening," he slurred, though he knew he was lying. "M'paying attention."

Those were the only words he managed to get out before he overwhelmed by cold, silent blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

"His light's back on."

Everything was pitch black when Connor could finally feel again. Admittedly, what he was feeling wasn't fantastic. His head felt like it had been bashed in eight times over, his joints were aching and his skin  _burned._ Connor didn't like this disconnect, he didn't like not knowing what was happening around him, but he clung to the one thing he recognized amidst the input: Gavin's voice. Wherever he was, Gavin was nearby. Connor wanted to look around, he wanted to figure out what was going on, it was in his nature, but his throbbing migraine made him hesitant to open his eyes just yet. He almost hoped that nobody was there at all.

"Connor? You awake?"

This time it was Hank's voice, gentle and quiet. It put him on edge. Hank wasn't gentle, Hank wasn't quiet. He furrowed his brow, allowing his eyes to flutter open slowly before closing tightly again at the burst of light. Everything was too bright, he couldn't even tell where he was.

"Lights, 10%."

Hank again.

Connor hesitantly opened his eyes again as the room dimmed around him, his vision adjusting to the lighting as pain coursed through his body. He genuinely had no idea where he was, but he was lying down, and there was something soft stuffed haphazardly under his head. Judging by the angles of everything, he assumed he was lying on the floor.

"Can you hear me?"

Hank.

Connor gave a slight nod, still barely registering where he was or what was happening. He could hear a few voices in the room, he wasn't alone, there were more people here than expected. He could see Hank, Hank was hunched over next to him, Hank looked terrified and Connor hated that, he wasn't used to it. Concern, sure, but never  _terror._ Hank was afraid. Connor had made a mistake and he had scared Hank. He felt guilty, genuinely, he hadn't wanted this to affect Hank, it was his own burden to bear, even if every moment spent hiding the truth from Hank had felt like knives in his chest.

It was probably safe to assume Hank understood most of what had happened now anyway.

His eyes trailed away from Hank for a moment, falling instead on Gavin, who's expression wasn't quite as readable.  _Reluctant anxiety,_ if Connor had to define it. His jacket was gone, and Connor assumed that was what his head was resting on. If Gavin and Hank were present, he was probably still at work, and the hex code of the painted walls indicated he was in one of the meeting rooms inside the DCPD building. He felt both numb and completely overwhelmed at the same time, sensation of any kind still felt so new, everything felt far too new in his life for him to be going through what he was going through now.

He watched as Gavin stood, his expression transitioning into a likely fake scowl as he trudged off, leaving Hank on the floor with Connor, the lieutenant's hand hovering just above Connor as if not touching the android was physically hurting him. On one hand, Connor desperately wanted Hank's comfort, he desperately wanted Hank's touch, he wanted to collapse into Hank's arms and  _cry_ , he wanted Hank to convince him that he was just fine, everything would be okay, the disgusting feelings inside of him wouldn't last forever. On the other Hand, he felt like any touch could break him into a million pieces and he would probably welcome it.

That was a good way to describe how Connor felt, fragile. He felt breakable. He felt like he was going to fall apart at any second, no matter what he did to hold himself together, and despite him insisting that he was incapable of fear, it was scary. Even scarier was the way Hank's hand trembled just over Connor's own, Hank's expression almost unreadable as it blended into a flurry of fear, relief, despair, and emotions that Connor couldn't possibly identify. He found himself struggling to identify many things right now, from the foreign voices in the room to whether or not he could see tears beginning to form in Hank's eyes. 

"Connor? Can you hear me properly?"

Connor furrowed his brow in confusion. The voice was calm and reassuring, a voice he was used to, but a voice that was far  _too_ calm given the fact that Connor had woken up on the floor after mutilating himself. Those criteria narrowed the voice down fairly well, only one person close enough to Connor to be here would be that calm under the circumstances.

Markus crouched down into view, his imposing presence instantly washing over Connor as the android tried to make himself look even semi-presentable, reaching to adjust his tie before realizing it was still tied tightly around his arm. He saw Markus's expression falter as he reached to stop Connor from moving, his hand halting before it could come in contact with Connor.

"Please don't move." Markus requested, scanning over Connor. "You've sustained some serious damage, are you aware of that?"

Connor nodded.

"Did you harm yourself?"

Connor nodded.

"Did you harm yourself  _intentionally?_ _"_

Connor didn't know how to answer that question. He liked to think that he had been in complete control of himself when he had begun clawing at his arms, but that meant that there was something wrong with him and he had harmed himself on purpose. Alternatively, if he chose to believe he had become overwhelmed and harmed himself without thinking, it meant he was  _not_ in control, and he needed to be in control, he needed to be in complete control. 

Connor nodded.

He wondered for a moment if Markus had been told, if Markus knew what had happened at the Eden Club. He didn't want Markus to judge him. He didn't want Markus to see him as disgusting or vile, as something that had been used up and was left tainted and damaged. However, he also didn't feel like explaining last night to Markus. Something about repeating the events filled him with a thick sickness, a suffocating sickness that he couldn't purge. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what he felt. He didn't know what he was or what he was doing, how could he?

"Can I touch your arm?"

Connor shook his head.

"Can you speak?"

Connor had no idea whether or not he could speak. His throat had already been damaged before he had sunk his nails into it, he imagined speaking was going to be slightly more challenging now. He offered Markus a tired shrug.

"Can you try for me?"

Connor opened his mouth slightly, faltering as he realized he hadn't exactly scripted this moment out.

"What would you like me to say?" he mumbled raspily, his voice crackling with static, his vocal chords clearly damaged as his voice came out sounding as if it had been pushed through a broken amp.

Markus seemed perturbed by Connor's voice, and that was less than comforting. He wondered how Markus felt, he wondered if Markus was disturbed by him, if Markus was disgusted by him, if Markus was  _worried_ about him. He also wondered why Markus was here in the first place. Hank had met Markus a few times now, mostly with Connor being the facilitator between the two. He had been eager to introduce Hank to the android who had freed his entire race, and Hank had been genuinely interested in meeting Markus. The two got along based on a mutual admiration of Connor and a mutual admiration of android freedom, so if Connor had to speculate, it was safe to assume that Hank had been the one to call Markus. If Connor had to speculate a second time, he would assume that Hank had contacted Markus because he himself had no knowledge of android biology or maintenance whatsoever. Markus had removed so many bullets and repaired so many fighters that it would be an understatement to call him a medic of sorts.

"Alright, he can communicate." Markus informed, though he didn't turn to Hank, keeping his eyes affixed to Connor in thought. "Are you in pain?"

Connor nodded.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Connor nodded.

Markus furrowed his brow, carefully touching a fingertip to Connor's temple, the android flinching away slightly before powering down. Markus stood, Hank following his lead quickly and dusting off his pants.

"You said he did this to himself in the bathroom?" Markus asked, his gaze flickering between Hank and Connor.

"I came out of his stall and he was ripping up his arms and shit." Gavin interjected, looking down at the damaged android on the floor. "His neck too. He wouldn't let me touch him. I didn't know what the fuck to do, I thought he was gonna start bashing his head in like that other bastard."

"It sounds like he was going into self destruction, do you know how high his stress levels were?"

"How the hell would we possibly-" Hank started, taking a deep breath and looking down at Connor. "How would we know that?"

"Androids tend to self destruct if their stress levels raise too high." Markus explained, turning his attention to Hank. "Has he experienced any stressful events recently?"

Markus raised an eyebrow slightly as Hank seemed to pale, his expression faltering as he searched for an answer to offer the android. Clearly something had happened, something Markus hadn't been informed of.

"Would you like to speak alone?" he offered, nodding towards the door. 

"That'd probably be best." Hank muttered, starting towards the door as Markus followed closely. 

As soon as the door had shut behind them, Hank leaned against it, breathing a sigh of exhaustion as he tried to process the last few hours in the span of a few seconds. Markus placed a hand on his shoulder, the detective eyeing the android skeptically.

"Talk when you're ready."

Hank assumed that Markus was probably some kind of babysitter or caretaker in his old life.

"Some shit went down at the Eden Club last night." Hank started, keeping his voice hushed. "He went there alone on an assault case. The manager wouldn't tell him anything unless he stripped and pole danced for him."

Markus nodded, his expression transitioning to one of concerned interest.

"Anyway, he did that, and then the guy took him into a room." Hank paused, seemingly trying to cope with his own words as they left his mouth.

"Take your time."

"Jeffrey and I-" Hank paused again and took a deep breath, a moment of silence passing between them. "We're pretty sure he got raped."

Markus felt a chill run through him. He would be lying if he said he didn't consider that an option, but he would also be lying if he said he had hoped it was literally anything else. He could recall the manager of the Eden Club fairly clearly, even if the memories of Floyd Mills weren't his own. He knew how Floyd made North feel, and that was simply from working in Floyd's establishment. He couldn't imagine how impactful it must have been to have a man like Floyd do something so horribly violating to Connor.

"That...would explain things." Markus replied, picking and choosing his words carefully. "And you're sure that's what happened?"

"Pretty damn sure."

Markus wasn't sure where to go from there. To an extent, he had dealt with certain sexual traumas with North. However, never to this extent, never to the extent of what had happened to Connor.

"Can I ask how you found out about this?"

"He sent in some footage from the Eden Club to Fowler and forgot to crop it."

Markus nodded solemnly, peering into the meeting room through the glass walls.

"Is it just you and Fowler who know?"

"Yeah, but Gavin's stickin' his fuckin' nose in it like he's entitled to know or some shit."

"You probably shouldn't tell anybody else without Connor permission." Markus insisted, turning his attention back to Hank. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to accompany you and Connor home. I think I can help."

"Well I've got a feeling we could use all the help we can get." Hank muttered, Markus noting the way the detective's hands shook. 

He was scared. That was fair.

"Lieutenant Anderson, I promise you I can help."

"Then do your fuckin' best, Markus."


	6. Chapter 6

"Connor? It's time to wake up."

"I don't want to wake up."

Connor could barely recognize his own tattered voice.

"I know, but you have to wake up now."

Connor reluctantly opened his eyes, his view instantly locking onto Markus. Hank was situated in a desk chair a few feet away, and Connor was quickly able to identify that he was still on the floor of the meeting room.

"I'm going to need you to run a self diagnostic for me, can you do that?" Markus asked calmly, maintaining steady eye contact.

Connor was sure that he could, it would be simple enough, but on the other hand, he desperately did not want to. He knew that he had sustained serious damage, and learning the specifics of exactly what he had done to himself sounded less than favourable. In a perfect world, he would really prefer to just forget about all this. He wanted to push away any thoughts of what had happened, wipe away all of last night and just breathe, just be calm, just relax.

"Connor? Are you still with me?"

"I can't run a self diagnosis at this time." Connor stated grittily, lying.

"Can I run a diagnosis then?"

Connor felt his stress levels rise, he didn't want Markus to touch him, he didn't want anybody to touch him. Before he could even respond, Markus had both his hands raised, calmly signifying he had no intentions of touching Connor without direct permission. Connor calmed slightly, hesitating as he weighed his options. If he didn't let Markus help him, he would remain damaged. If he did let Markus help him, Markus would be  _touching him_ , and he didn't want anybody touching him, he didn't want any more hands on him.

"Connor, I want to help you." Markus continued, lowering his hands slowly. "I'm not going to harm you, I have no intentions of harming you, I just want to see what's wrong. Would it help if Hank was over here?"

Connor nodded shakily. 

Needing no further indication than that, Hank got up and walked over, sitting down next to Connor and watching Markus carefully.

"There. Hank's here now. If anything happens, Hank is right here." Markus assured. "Can I perform a diagnosis?"

"He wants to help you, Connor." Hank continued quietly.

Connor had hardly noticed the other voices in the room, but now that they had silenced, it was almost deafeningly quiet. He didn't know if the others were still there, but he knew he couldn't hear them. He hoped they had left. The thought that he had pulled all these people from their already busy days just because he had lost control and damaged himself made him feel guilty, horribly guilty, he didn't want to inconvenience people with his own problems. It wasn't efficient. However, the longer he delayed this, the more inconveniencing he was to everybody.

"I do not require a diagnosis." Connor stated, finally taking the liberty of sitting up, much to the distress of Markus who quickly ushered him back down.

As soon as Connor had propped him up on his elbows, he felt like his body was on fire. Pain coursed through his arms so suddenly it felt like he had been shot, a sharp inhale firing through his throat as he collapsed back down onto the floor, his head flushing with pain as it hit Gavin's jacket.

"Don't get up, you're extremely damaged and low on thirium." Markus insisted, frowning slightly. "Connor, I need to know if I can perform a diagnosis or not."

It was probably best to just get this over and done with. Reluctantly, Connor gave a small nod, feeling his stress levels steadily rise as he considered what might happen next. Gently, Markus placed his hand over Connor's, skin fading away as he connected with the detective and began his scan.

"Severe damage done to the biocomponents that make up the throat and throat sensors," Markus mumbled, furrowing his brow in thought. "Pressure damage done to the head and diaphragm, severe lacerations to the neck, and arms, as well as minor lacerations the shoulders, scalp, and mouth."

Connor could see Hank physically pale, guilt running through him once again. He had upset Hank. Hank did want to hear this, Hank wanted Connor to be okay and Connor wasn't. Markus paused, considering his words carefully as he glanced between Hank and Connor before lowering his voice. 

"Blunt force damage done to the anus and rectum. Moderate lacerations to the anus and traces of foreign semen in the mouth, throat, anus and rectum."

Something about having his damage read to him so clinically was off-putting to Connor, he wished he could see it as medically as Markus could. It was damage, simple damage, he would be cleaned and repaired and that would be all. There would be no lasting signs of the damage, and he would be expected to return to his normal duties as a detective and as an android. Connor knew it wasn't that simple, he knew no amount of patching and fixing could tear those god awful phantom hands from his skin, no amount of repairs could wash that taste from his mouth.

Connor hadn't even noticed the way his hands had started trembling, the way his breath had started to hitch. He raised his hand, inspecting his arm for the first time. It was gnarled, his plastic covered in gashes and wounds, dried blood caked to the surface in a messy cesspool of Connor's worst actions. He felt sick, he felt like his insides were churning, his vision seemed to blur as the sight sunk in.

"Connor? Are you still with me?"

Connor couldn't find the words to answer, his throat hurt, everything  _hurt_ , he didn't want to speak or see or  _feel_ anymore. Connor quietly brought his hands up to cover his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he desperately tried to calm himself. He didn't want to be seen like this, he didn't want to be seen as this  _pathetic_. He felt Markus' hand leave his own, the sensation like a thousand pounds being lifted off of his chest. 

"Simon," Markus started, standing. "Can you get everybody out of here please?"

Connor could barely register the words around him, Simon was there? Had Simon been there the whole time? Connor could practically smell the blood on his hands, it was bitter and overwhelming, he couldn't pin down his thoughts in one place with all these people in the room and all this  _blood on his hands._

"Everybody's gone now." Markus coaxed. "It's just Hank and I here. You're safe."

"I-I don't feel safe!" Connor snapped, jerking upwards abruptly and doing his best to ignore the surge of pain that shot through his head as he did so. 

Markus' expression was unreadable for a moment before the android nodded carefully, glancing between Hank and Connor. Hank had been quiet, much more quiet than Connor was used to. He didn't want that, he wanted Hank to be angry, to be yelling, to be what he knew Hank was, he didn't want any more change, he didn't want any more surprises.

"Why don't you feel safe?" Markus asked softly.

"I-I...I don't know, I-I don't know." Connor mumbled shakily. "I feel...I-I feel hands."

"Hands-?"

"I feel like there's hands on me." he continued, his voice low and broken. "I-I feel...I feel dirty."

"Markus," Hank started, glancing up at the deviant leader. "Mind if I talk to him alone for a second?"

"Not at all. Go ahead."

Markus gave Hank a quick nod before calmly exiting, his imposing stature reminding Connor of why so many people looked up to him for guidance. Markus was helpful. Maybe it was okay that Markus was involved in this.

"Connor?" Hank began hesitantly.

Connor could feel his whole body go rigid, something about being alone with Hank right now was completely overwhelming his emotions, something about how gently Hank was speaking was bringing tears to his eyes. He felt  _relief_ , the relief that he had been craving, he felt like he was safe with Hank. Before he even knew what was happening, he was crying, tears rising to his eyes rapidly as he tried to maintain his stoic nature.

"Fuck, kid, are you crying-?"

"I-I'm sorry," Connor started quickly, drawing his knees closer to his chest and quickly wiping tears from his face. "I'm sorry, I-I'm having trouble controlling my emotions currently-"

"Hey, hey, don't worry." Hank coaxed, moving slightly closer to Connor. "It's okay."

Connor hurriedly leaned forward, practically collapsing into Hank's arms as his sobs came hard and heavy, pain wringing his throat as he finally allowed himself  _release._ Hank startled slightly, catching Connor and holding him tightly as the android cried against his chest. Hank's touch wasn't menacing, Hank's touch didn't hurt, he was warm, he was welcoming, he was safe and relieving and familiar, he was  _Hank._

Connor had never been this overwhelmed, he didn't understand emotions, he couldn't  _handle_ emotions,  _he wasn't ready for this._ He wasn't ready to hear his injuries read to him, he wasn't ready to self destruct in the bathroom, he wasn't ready to be sobbing in Hank's arms on the floor of a meeting room. He wasn't ready.

"I'm sorry," he parroted raspily. "I-I did not mean for this to happen, I-I'm sorry I wasn't able to fight back, I'm  _sorry-_ "

"Don't fuckin' say that Connor." Hank started firmly, hugging Connor closely to him. "Don't you fuckin' apologize for that shit, it wasn't your fault, don't you  _ever_ think it was your fault."

"I-I wanted information, I wanted to solve the case,  _I-I just wanted to solve the case, I-_ "

"Connor,  _stop._ It wasn't your fault. Don't fucking say that. I-It wasn't your fault."

Hank was startled slightly by the way his own voice hitched, he wasn't expecting that from himself. Albeit, the way Connor was trembling in his arms, blaming himself for something that wasn't at all his fault - something he probably already felt horrible enough for, it was absolutely  _heartbreaking._ The very last thing he wanted was for Connor to feel like this was in any way his fault, like he was to blame for this. He wasn't, and Hank wouldn't let him think that.

"I-I want to go home Hank, I j-just want to go home." Connor stammered out softly, his crackling tone making Hank's heart practically shred in his chest. "I don't want t-to be here anymore."

"We'll go home kid, we're gonna go home. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you fixed up."

"It hurts, m-my head hurts, my throat-"

"I know, I know." Hank coaxed. "We're gonna get you fixed up. It's not gonna hurt anymore. We're going home."

* * *

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He's damaged," Markus responded curtly, dodging the question to some degree. "But he should be able to be repaired."

"That doesn't really answer my question." Simon replied, furrowing his brow slightly. "But I'll trust you."

"Something must have happened to him, he wouldn't be acting like that if something hadn't happened to him." North pressed, folding her arms.

"I'm not at liberty to talk about his situation."

"We deserve to know, Markus, we're helping too."

"That doesn't entitle you to know about other people's private lives." Markus stated, raising his voice just enough to make sure his point sunk in. "What happened involving Connor is nobody's business but his own and the people he decides to tell."

"He could have died." Josh interjected, peering into the meeting room through the glass walls. "He damaged himself badly."

"But he  _didn't_ die." Markus replied, following Josh's eyes into the meeting room. "So now, we move forward."

The sight in the room was troubling: Hank and Connor hunched over on the floor, Connor clinging to Hank like a lifeline as Hank held him tightly, the android clearly crying as his body shook. The thought of what Connor had suffered through was sickening to Markus, truly. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying his best to remain calm. He would be helpful and influential as long as he would calm, and now was when he most needed to be helpful.

"We move forward." he repeated quietly. "It's the only way to go."

 


	7. Chapter 7

The ride home with Hank was a quiet one.

Connor could feel something in his throat sparking, it felt like a constant itch. He hoped this new sensation was his throat repairing itself and not additional damage brought on by his crying. He had watched his skin attempt to patch over, the texture faltering as it reached each new gash on his arm before retreating once again. It kept him distracted for a while, the repetitive motion, but not for long. Hank had been looking between Connor and the road every few moments, unsure of what he should say. They were both silent, and it was making them both tense.

"You wanna talk about what happened?" Hank tried quietly.

"Do you want me to recount the events, Lieutenant Anderson?" Connor mumbled in response.

"You don't have to go that far if you don't want to."

Connor was quiet in thought. He didn't want to, he really didn't want to, but he wondered if it might lift another weight off of his chest. He wondered if Hank knowing would help more than it would hurt.

"C-Can I start from what you already know?"

"'Course."

"We um-" Connor started, hating the way his voice halted and stammered. "We entered one of the Eden Club's private rooms. Mr. Mills proceeded to force me onto the bed on my stomach, constricting my diaphragm and breathing."

Hank nodded slightly, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Recounting his incident was strange to Connor, it felt like telling somebody else's story, like he was so distant from the real events. He took a deep breath.

"He removed my clothing," Connor proceeded, his thoughts swirling as he remembered what he had been forced to wear. "I-It was...humiliating. His hands were on my back."

Hank's own thoughts were troubled. The Connor he knew was stoic and proud, ironic and cocky, bold and determined and strong. The idea that somebody had forced his Connor into lingerie, forced his Connor into sex,  _hurt him_ , it was sickening. He felt nauseous. Part of him really, truly didn't want to hear this recount, but he knew it was necessary. He had to know so he could help.

If he could help at all, that is.

"...I-I told him to stop." Connor spoke quietly, his voice trembling. " _I told him to stop._ "

Hank noticed the way Connor tensed with these words, the android's hands shaking lightly as they balled into tight fists in his lap. Hank had never seen Connor in this kind of state before, he had never seen Connor this fragile. It felt horrible.

"I told him to stop, a-and I told him  _I wanted to leave._ " Connor continued, glancing down as he desperately tried to distance himself from his own words. "H-He forced my head into the mattress and told me he was going to shoot me if I moved."

Hank's stomach dropped. Floyd had threatened to  _kill him?_

"He kept his hand on my head," Connor recounted, his gaze growing distant as his eyes began to lose focus. "H-He was pressing down on my head, i-it was heavy, I felt like...I-I felt like I was going to die."

"You don't have to keep going." Hank interjected gently. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"What if I wanted it?"

Hank almost jerked the car off the road with how sharply he turned to Connor, eyes wide.

" _What?_ "

"What if I wanted it?" Connor repeated emotionlessly.

"Why the fuck would you think that?"

Connor furrowed his brow, taking a shaky breath as he ran through the events in his head.

"H-Human pleasure reaction."

"Human pleasure reaction-?"

"I was erect."

"Fucking Christ, Connor-"

"It is a preprogrammed reaction to sexual stimulation." Connor interrupted, Hank noticing the unusual pitch of his voice. "I-I couldn't- It wasn't my- I-I mean-"

" _Preprogrammed._ " Hank parroted snappily, glancing over at Connor for a moment before refocusing on the road. "Fuck, Connor, I wouldn't give a fuck if you had fucking grabbed him and begged for it. The second you said  _no_ , the second you said you wanted to leave, that's when it should have fucking  _stopped._ I don't care if you got a hard-on, I don't give a  _fuck,_ it's not your fault and you didn't fucking  _want it._ "

Connor was quiet, thinking over the word and wiping his eyes, trying his best not to smudge any more blood across his face. At the time, he would have done  _anything_ to get away from Floyd, he had no idea why he was doubting his own intentions now. He had desperately wanted to get away, right? Was he remembering it wrong?

"When humans experience physical arousal, i-it is a response to  _pleasure._ " Connor explained, though it sounded much more like he was trying to explain it to himself than Hank. "If I was experiencing it, i-it had to mean I was-"

"It doesn't mean fuckin' anything," Hank argued, pulling into the driveway. "You didn't fucking  _want it_ Connor. You told him to stop. He should have fucking stopped when you told him to stop, it doesn't fucking matter what your body did."

Connor let those words sink in.  _What your body did._ He hadn't made the decision to react like that physically, he knew he hadn't, it was just code, all of it was code. However, the idea that he hadn't fought back hard enough, the idea that his body had seen what was happening as pleasure, the idea that any of that could be true was sickening to him, he felt like this was his fault. If there was anybody to blame, it was him. Connor took a deep breath, swallowing thickly before continuing.

"H-He proceeded to use me for anal sex." Connor spoke softly. "I...I was bleeding."

He could see Hank tense out of the corner of his eye. 

"H-He told me what he knew." Connor continued, and Hank could tell his stress was rising. "And as it turns out, I-I already knew it as well."

"Fuck, Connor..."

"I-It was all for nothing. I did it all for nothing."

Hank didn't know what to say to that, Connor really had done everything for nothing. He sighed, carefully getting out of the car, Connor following quietly as he walked the android into the house. He closed the door behind them, eyeing Connor. The android's shoulders were hunched, his eyes locked indefinitely to the floor as he tried to block out all sensations in his body, all the pain. Connor shakily brought a hand up to his head, his head  _hurt_ , it wouldn't stop hurting, he wanted it to stop hurting. He wanted the pressure to go away.

"H-He bit me." Connor mumbled, looking up to finally meet Hank's eyes. "He bit my shoulder."

Hank made a note, he would rip Floyd's goddamn teeth out when this was all said and done. Connor wiped his eyes again and Hank could see that his tears were coming faster now, he was crying. 

"Can I hug you?"

Connor nodded quietly, hurriedly lunging forward into Hank's arms, clinging to the man as tears rolled down his face and dropped quietly onto the carpet. He felt weak, he felt like he could collapse at any minute. 

"Here, c'mon." Hank coaxed, leading Connor onto the couch and sitting him down carefully.

He took a folded blanket from the armrest and draped it over Connor's shoulders, the android pulling the blanket around himself tightly as if it could save him if it was only tight enough.

"You wanna keep talking?"

Connor nodded again. Telling Hank all of this felt horrible. It felt like it was happening all over again, it felt like that same thick sickness was rising in him once again, it felt like dying, but it also felt like relief. Hank knew now. He didn't have to keep any more secrets from Hank. He didn't want to. Taking another deep breath, Connor tried his best to remain stoic and clinical, it felt important right now that he distance his emotions as best he could.

"H-He ejaculated inside me and on my face."

He could see Hank lurch slightly at the bluntness of Connor's words. 

"I told him I wanted to leave, a-and he said we weren't  _done._ " Connor continued, his words sharp and thick as his sentence finished, an edge of resentment to his words as he recalled the pain.

It had hurt. All of it had hurt, he had been bleeding, he had been in pain. It was unfathomable how much pain he had been in.

"I-I just wanted to go home." Connor practically whispered, his voice weak and croaky. 

Hank could feel his heart snap at Connor's words. Connor had been happy, Connor had been innocent, inquisitive, curious and bold and  _kind_ , why anybody would want to hurt him this badly, why anybody would want to strip away everything that made him  _Connor_ was beyond Hank. People were horrible, people were fucking  _demented_ , and Hank couldn't understand why for the life of him, he couldn't understand why people were needlessly cruel. He couldn't understand at all.

"I-I know kid, I know." Hank coaxed, pulling Connor into another hug as the android's breaths came shaky and forced. "I know."

Connor clung lightly to Hank's shirt, allowing tears to roll from his face as his hands trembled. He had just wanted to go home. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted this,  _he hadn't wanted this._

"H-He grabbed my hair," Connor mumbled, his voice close to silent. "He grabbed my hair a-and pulled me onto my knees, o-on the floor."

"Connor, you don't have to-"

"I want you to know." Connor insisted weakly, Hank pausing for a moment before nodding and rubbing Connor's shoulder lightly. 

He didn't dare touch his back.

"H-He then used me to perform oral sex. My sensors were damaged by this."

Connor took the liberty of leaving out the way it had felt, the way he had felt as if he was going to vomit, the way he had felt like he was no longer human, the way he had felt like he was nothing more than somebody's toy in that moment. A toy for pleasure and nothing else. Worthless.

"He ejaculated into my mouth, a-and I was forced to swallow or choke." Connor mumbled. "I-I was having trouble breathing."

"Wh- Is it still in you?" Hank asked, paling at his own implications.

Connor shook his head quietly, and Hank breathed a sigh of relief.

"I-I told him again that I wanted to leave, a-and he got...angry." Connor explained, dread filling his mind as the thoughts of the event suddenly started to become overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected. "H-He got angry, he wanted me to thank him for what he did, a-and I did, I thanked him, I-I thanked him and he wanted me to say it  _louder_ , I-I-"

"Connor? Connor, hey, breathe." Hank muttered, looking Connor in the eyes and speaking calmly. "You're okay. You're here. I'm here."

"...H-He made me apologize." Connor mumbled. "He was...He was hitting me. He was hitting me u-until I apologized."

Hank's stomach lurched slightly, that explained a lot. At the very least it certainly explained why Connor had been apologizing so frantically in the meeting room, he was afraid, he didn't want to be hurt. It made Hank nauseous to think of how deeply this had dug into Connor's core. Hank knew what happened after Connor's apology, he knew how things went from there, Connor had come home, Connor had spiralled in on himself, Connor had dug his nails into his arms and drawn blood, Connor had broken down. Hank had never hated himself more than he did in that moment. He hadn't been there, he had been drunk on the couch. He chose getting drunk over accompanying Connor somewhere unsafe, his own stupid decisions had caused this.

"Connor," Hank started, feeling the boy's quiet hiccups and sobs against him. "I...I should have gone with you, I'm sorry. I should have gone with you, you would be okay if I had gone with you."

"I-It's not your fault." Connor insisted. "I shouldn't have agreed to go with him at all, I-I should have fought back, I  _could_ have fought back, th-this is my own fault."

"It's not your fault."

"W-Well it isn't  _yours._ "

Hank sighed, pulling Connor in so closely he was practically breathing him. He wanted Connor close to him right now, he wanted Connor nearby, he wanted Connor in his range of sight at all times. He wanted to know that Connor was safe  _at all times._ He didn't know what could happen if he let Connor slip out of his sight again, he didn't want to know. He wanted Connor here.

"I-I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"Don't say that. Don't be sorry."

"Please don't l-leave me."

"Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you find what we need?"

"Some of it. We'll have to run out and buy a few things."

"Why are we doing all this when we don't even know what  _happened_ _?_ "

"Because it's right." Markus interrupted, standing and effectively silencing his group. "Connor would do the same for any of you if you were the ones who were hurt."

North eyed Markus skeptically before unceremoniously dropping her gathered biocomponents onto the deviant leader's podium.

"Well there you go."

"We had compatible diaphragm, trachea and esophagus parts." Simon explained, stepping forward. "But we couldn't find a compatible vocal synthesizer, we don't have a lot of parts that are compatible with RK models actually."

Markus furrowed his brow and nodded, he knew that much. He had sustained several injuries of his own throughout his time in Jericho, and had often been met with the similar situation of parts just not being properly compatible with his prototype.

"I'll bring them when I visit him." Markus stated, looking over the parts on his podium. "I'll see what repairs I'm able to do on my own, and what repairs I am  _unable_ to do on my own. We'll work from there."

To Markus' knowledge, he was fairly sure he knew where everybody currently stood on the issue of  _Connor._ At least, he knew what he could observe from their behaviour. Josh seemed apprehensive at first, he was cautious around people with as much authority as Connor and Markus had been aware of that long before they had gone to the DCPD building. He had assured Josh that Connor was one of them and needed to be treated as such, and after seeing Connor himself, Josh had fully sided with Markus. Josh was empathetic, it was a quality about him that Markus admired extensively.

North, however, had started apprehensive and stayed apprehensive throughout. She was skeptic, she was judgemental and she was abrasive, and Markus was growing weary. He knew that North would calm down if she knew what had happened, but it wasn't his information to share. Because of his reluctance to share Connor's secret, North had become hostile. She didn't like being left out of what was going on, and as fair as that was, it was also troublesome. Markus had decided fairly early on that he wasn't going to share Connor's trauma without Connor's directly expressed permission, and North's anger wasn't going to change that, as much as Markus respected her.

And then there was Simon. Simon had been a blessing, following Markus' orders without a moment's hesitation. Markus imagined it was likely due to Simon being in Jericho for as long as he had been. Simon had seen people go through the ringer, perhaps even Connor's own situation, and Simon had adapted and done his best to help. Markus couldn't be more grateful, but he wondered secretly if Simon had figured out what was going on. Not many other kinds of traumas would cause somebody like Connor to act so erratically, so Markus likely wouldn't be shocked if it turned out that Simon had figured it out a long time ago.

"I'm not helping anymore."

"What?" Markus questioned, shaking free of his thoughts and perking up at North's tone. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to run around doing favours for somebody I barely know when I don't even know what's going on. He's police, Markus. This is ridiculous."

" _He's one of us._ " Markus insisted, sudden passion surging into him at the thought of abandoning one of his own people in their time of need. "We have to help him."

" _Then tell me what's going on_."

"It's not our business," Simon insisted, stepping forward. "We aren't just-"

"It's our business when we're doing favours for him and giving away valuable parts." North argued, taking a step towards Simon, her tone biting and insistent. 

"When I first arrived in Jericho," Markus started, interrupting them both. "You had next to no supplies and your people were  _dying._ You offered me some of your only thirium before you even knew what my intentions were. Why are you so reluctant to help somebody who's already proven his loyalty to you? What more do you want him to do to earn the right to  _live with working components,_ North?"

The group fell silent, North squinting defensively as she let the words sink in. Finally, she took a deep breath, folding her arms and shooting Markus a look.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Markus sighed. "I'm sorry I can't tell you, but everybody is entitled to privacy, wouldn't you agree with that?"

"If you say it's something that needs to stay private, I'll trust you Markus."

Markus noted the way Simon smiled slightly at the gentle resolve of the conflict, he was always insistent on keeping discord out of their group, especially when it was the time to focus on a bigger picture. Markus agreed extensively, but he also respected the opinions of his group. He wasn't a dictator and the input of his followers was important to him. That being said, Markus also had to consider the bigger picture, which forced him into a strange purgatory in situations like this one.

"You said you were going to visit him?" Josh offered, breaking the fragile silence. 

"I plan on visiting Connor and Lieutenant Anderson later today." Markus confirmed, nodding slightly. "I'd like to check on Connor. He was...struggling, when I last saw him. I'd like to see if he's improved at all, and if so, I'd like to have a few words with him."

"Do you want us to come?" North asked, glancing amongst the group.

"I'll go alone." Markus insisted, raising a hand to stop the line of questioning. "Last time we were all in the room with Detective Reed and Captain Fowler, Connor became overwhelmed. I'd like him to be calm if possible."

"Then we'll stay here." Simon agreed, folding his arms. "But let us know if he's doing alright."

"He can't tell us anything Simon."

For a second Markus thought North was mocking him with her strict enforcement of his discretion, but the look on her face showed no hostility.

"I can still tell you how he's doing," Markus explained, smiling sympathetically. "Just not what happened, that's all."

"Then keep us updated."

"I intend to, don't worry." 

There were a few more shared words before the room began to clear, leaving Markus alone with his thoughts. He worried in all honesty, he really was. It was strange to have a major concern on his mind that didn't involve Jericho for once, but yet here he was, sitting in his makeshift office, genuinely worrying about Connor. Connor had proven himself during the revolution, Markus had knew he would, all it took was a little convincing and Connor realized who he was really meant to be. Markus appreciated Connor's bravery, which made it all the more strange to see him this scared, and even stranger for Markus to be this scared  _for_ him.

Connor had done something revolutionary for Markus, something dangerous. Markus would be indebted to him for a long time, that much was clear, which is why he truly wanted to do his best for Connor in his time of need. The problem was that he had never dealt like anything like this before. Similar situations, of course, but not the likes of Connor. His mind drifted back to North, her images of the Eden Club flashing through his head. Sure, North was a gynoid, one made for sex, one made for pleasure. However, as many times as North had been in the position of a sexual partner, and as many times has she may have deviated, North had never been in the position of Connor. She had never truly been held down fighting and  _violated_ like that. As much as he would like the two situations to be similar enough that he could understand how to help Connor, he knew they weren't.

Markus sighed, sitting down and rubbing his forehead. Stress. This was all so stressful. He wondered if he should talk to Hank about the best approach, he wondered what Carl might want him to do at a time like this. Be calm. Be helpful. Be himself. He could do that, he knew he was more than capable of assuming the role, but he didn't know if  _himself_ would be enough here. 

"Markus? Do you have a second?"

"Simon," Markus acknowledged, looking up to the doorway. "Come in."

Simon stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and taking a seat next to Markus, keeping his eyes down.

"How can I help you?" Markus offered. 

"I wanted to ask you something about Connor."

"...Go on." Markus persuaded, preparing for yet another question he wouldn't be allowed to answer. 

"Well, just, the way he was acting back at the meeting room- It was worrying. Really worrying. Connor wouldn't act like that over just anything Markus."

"I agree."

"So I was thinking on it, and- I guess I just wanted to know, and I understand if you can't confirm or deny but-" Simon hesitated, pausing before lowering his voice slightly. "Was Connor raped?"

Just as Markus had expected, Simon was clever and observant. Simon knew.

"I can't tell you that, Simon."

"I know, I know." Simon sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I should have guessed that."

"But I'm sure Connor would appreciate your concern." Markus added. "I'll let him know he's on your mind when I visit later today."

"Thank you Markus." Simon mumbled, deep in thought. "I'm worried about him."

"I am too." Markus agreed, resting his chin on his hand. "Believe me, I am. But we're doing all we can, and I'm sure it'll help. He'll at least feel physically better once he's had a few repairs done."

"But will feeling physically better be enough?"

"...No." Markus sighed, Simon slightly surprised by the leader's honesty. "No, Simon, it won't. But it'll help."

Simon was quiet for a moment before nodding, standing back up.

"Thank you Markus."

Markus gave a curt nod, Simon quietly leaving the room as Markus fell back into deep thought. Feeling physically better truly wouldn't be enough, and even then, there was no promise that Connor wouldn't repeat what he had done. Connor had to feel psychologically better, and there was nothing Markus could do to help him with that. He didn't understand how Connor felt, he couldn't possibly, but he knew that somebody important to him was hurting, and it was frustrating that he could barely help at all. He took a deep breath, pushing the frustration down until he felt a cold calm come over him once again. He had to be pragmatic here. He had to be present, he had make choices.

Markus stood, loading the collected biocomponents into his bag carefully. He had a delivery to make.


	9. Chapter 9

Connor had been quiet.

Hank hadn't pressured him to speak, he assumed talking was probably fairly painful right now. Occasionally he would hear Connor stifle a small whimper or hiccup, little noises of pain that made Hank's heart hurt. Connor hadn't moved an inch from the couch since they had arrived home, though Hank had gotten up to make dinner and get a few things to keep Connor comfortable. 

He really wished Connor would change clothes. He hadn't changed since last night, and his outfit was becoming increasingly bloody and dishevelled as time went on, more and more of the time prior piling up on Connor's appearance. Plus, he imagined that Connor's suit couldn't be too comfortable caked in blood and full of cuts. He just hoped that Connor would be able to.

"Connor?" he started, carefully setting down the dishes he had been cleaning.

Connor didn't respond at first, his eyes half-lidded and fixed on the floor, deep in thought. It took a few moments for him to begin speaking.

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"You think maybe you should change clothes?"

Connor felt his entire body go tense, his stress levels spiking as something deep inside him churned. He could feel himself start to panic, though he couldn't pin down  _why_ , Hank had barely said  _anything_ , why would he be-

 _"Let's get you in the proper attire first._ "

A chill ran through him as the words practically slammed into his skull from the inside. 

 _"There we go, put this on._ "

It was like a memory put on repeat, Connor's hands moving down his chest to unbutton his shirt for Floyd, the exposure and shame and  _humiliation_ , he didn't want to change clothes, he wanted to stay in his suit, he was safe in his suit, he didn't want to take his clothes off.

"Connor? Hey, come back to me kid,  _Connor_ _?_ "

Connor blinked back into reality, surprised by how hard he was shaking and the amount of tears that had begun rolling down his face. 

"Are you okay?" Hank breathed in relief, his shoulders slumping.

"I-I don't want to change clothes."

"Okay, okay, you don't have to, don't worry about it."

The memory of his blazer sliding down off of his shoulders and pooling on the floor slipped across Connor's mind, filling his stomach with a thick nausea. He loosened his tie slightly and swallowed.

"Christ, Connor, you scared the hell out of me there."

"Apologies, Lieutenant."

"No, just- don't apologize, that's not what I-" Hank stammered hurriedly, seeming to lose his train of thought before sighing. "I'm just glad you're okay, kid."

The quiet conversation was interrupted by the obnoxious blaring of Hank's doorbell, just as shrill as Connor remembered. Hank offered Connor a small look of sympathy before standing, walking over to the door and swinging it open unceremoniously.

"Lieutenant Anderson," Markus started, extending a hand. "Good to see you again."

"Oh, hey, you too." Hank responded curiously, raising an eyebrow as he shook Markus' hand. "Something wrong?"

"I'm here to check on Connor, I've brought a few things that might help his physical condition. May I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." Hank nodded, opening the door wider and stepping out of the way.

Markus walked in, glancing around and taking in his surroundings. Though he had met Hank many times before, this was his first time seeing Hank's home. Markus found you could tell a lot about a person by their home if you truly paid attention, and in terms of Hank's house, it wasn't very hard to tell what kind of person Hank was. Hank's house was small but incredibly tidy, which Markus assumed was Connor's doing. A small photo of a boy sat on Hank's mantle, Markus taking note of the fact that it appeared to be Hank's late son. He tucked that fact away.

A cabinet full of alcohol was visible in the kitchen, though Markus noted that it was far less alcohol than he would have expected from somebody like Hank. He wondered if that was also Connor's doing. He noted a few other small details: An apparent interest in jazz, a fairly luxurious couch, a large dog, other things that Hank possessed. Hank seemed interesting. However, he had to keep his focus squared. 

Connor peered over the back of the couch, instantly locking eyes with Markus, who offered him a curt nod in response. Connor made a move to stand up and greet the leader, Markus raising a quiet hand to stop him. 

"No need, you should rest."

Connor opened his mouth slightly to speak before sitting once again, nodding. Markus walked around the couch, taking a seat a comfortable distance from Connor. Connor looked an absolute wreck, and Markus could safely say it wasn't a sight he was used to yet. He was used to a very imposing Connor, a very bold Connor. This Connor looked like he was barely holding himself together, trying to appear strong for the sake of not being pitied, for the sake of pretending everything was alright. Markus furrowed his brow.

"How are you feeling?"

"I am alright."

"Connor," Markus sighed, leaning back against the couch. " _How are you feeling?"_

Connor was quiet for a moment, Markus noting the small coin he was toying with. He recognized it easily as the coin Connor used to test his reflexes, he had seen Connor's tricks many times and they never failed to impress, especially with the children of Jericho.

"I'm feeling tired."

"Tired?"

"Very, very, tired." Connor mumbled shakily, closing his eyes. "Tired and...a-and dirty."

"Why's that?"

"My emotions are overwhelming." Connor admitted, glancing up at Markus hesitantly, his eyes begging Markus for some kind of  _answers._ "I-I don't understand why-"

Connor paused, swallowing and breathing a shaky sigh.

"I don't understand why I feel the way I feel."

"You don't have to understand it," Markus assured, keeping steady eye contact with Connor. "Just tell me how you feel."

"I feel...a-afraid." Connor continued quietly, Hank leaning against the counter in the kitchen as he listened carefully. "I feel afraid of what might happen."

"What do you think will happen?"

Connor thought about that question for a moment. If he genuinely had to pinpoint it, he was afraid that it might happen  _again._ He paused, frowning slightly as his thoughts went deeper. Of course it wouldn't happen again, it was ridiculously unlikely that Floyd would suddenly just show up at the door and it would happen all over again, the fear was incredibly irrational. Connor didn't like having irrational fears, he didn't like having irrational  _anything_ , it wasn't what he knew.

"I...I don't know." he mumbled finally, Markus nodding slightly.

"It's okay to be afraid." Markus coaxed gently. "You don't have to know why you're afraid, it doesn't have to make sense. You can just be afraid."

"But I don't  _want_ to just be afraid," Connor insisted, his voice hitting a sharp and damaged pitch that caused them both to flinch. "I-I want to understand, Markus."

"I know you do." Markus sighed. "And I know that for somebody  _made_   _to understand_ , it must be fairly difficult to be confused."

"I-I feel lost." Connor confessed, lowering his voice. 

Markus and Hank shared a brief look, the house going silent for a moment. Markus well understood the feeling of being lost, he had been lost from the second Carl had passed to the second androids had fully integrated into society. He knew the feeling of not understanding, he knew the feeling of not knowing where to go or what to do, he knew the feeling of confusion and  _hurt._

He imagined Hank likely did too.

"I-It was my own fault, Markus."

"What? Why would you think that?" Markus started sympathetically, genuinely not having expected the statement.

"I should have been smarter, I-I should have known that his info would be useless, I should have known better, I-I was an  _idiot-_ "

Markus raised a hand, Connor's words stuttering to a stop as Markus interrupted.

"Don't blame yourself for the sins of others." Markus stated calmly, though he certainly didn't feel calm at the moment. "Somebody chose to hurt you. That isn't your fault."

Though he kept his voice and gaze steady, Markus was absolutely seething with anger. The fact that somebody would not only do this to Connor but leave Connor feeling as though it was his own fault was disgusting, and the thought of it was like a knife in Markus' chest. It was Floyd's fault, it wasn't Connor's fault. Connor didn't choose to be  _violated._ The fact that  _anybody_ , including Connor, would blame Connor for what happened when somebody else had actively chosen to violate him made Markus furious.

"I could have avoided it."

"You didn't know, Connor." Markus insisted. "You couldn't have."

"But I  _should_ have."

"You couldn't have." Markus repeated quietly. "Nobody thinks this is your fault, Connor. Nobody."

" _I-I do_."

"Nobody else does, Connor. Nobody thinks this is your fault, nobody blames you for what happened, nobody thinks any less of you for what happened to you.  _It wasn't your fault._ "

Connor was quiet, his hands shaking lightly as he let the words set in. He wasn't surprised by the tears that came to his eyes, but he was admittedly frustrated, quickly wiping them away on his mussed sleeve. Nobody blamed him. It wasn't his fault. He could hear the words just fine, but they wouldn't sink in, they wouldn't register, his mind wouldn't let him believe them. Connor swallowed, tears rolling off of his face and landing solidly in his lap.

"I-I feel disgusting," he continued quietly, Markus frowning slightly as he watched Connor fall apart right in front of his eyes. "I feel disgusting, I-I still feel his  _hands_ on me Markus, I-I don't want to feel them anymore, I don't want to  _feel_ anymore."

Markus liked to think he knew Connor well. Connor was dedicated to his cause, whatever that cause may be at the time. When Connor had deviated, he had been more than willing to risk his entire existence for the revolution. Connor had been alive, Connor had  _loved_ being alive. Anybody could see that Connor had only grown more in love with the concept of life as time went on, growing plants in small pots around the house and keeping his garden thriving in the yard. Connor had been curious and fascinated, every new emotion that he felt - negative or otherwise - had been enthralling to him, he had asked Markus so many questions, he had wanted to know everything there was to know about  _feeling._ Hearing Connor say that he didn't want to feel anymore struck a chord in Markus he didn't know existed. 

"Connor, don't say that, of course you still want to feel."

"I-I don't, it  _hurts_ , I don't want to  _hurt_ anymore."

Markus assumed that this was what had lead to Connor's attempted self destruction.

"I-I don't want to hurt anymore." Connor repeated quietly, his hands shaking badly.

Connor glanced up at Markus, surprised to see the deviant leader wiping his eye. It was small and subtle, but Markus had cried for him, and something about that idea was incredibly strange.

"You won't hurt forever." Markus insisted, regaining his composure and taking a deep breath. "Not this badly. You'll be able to feel good things again Connor, I-I promise you that you will."

"Listen to him, Connor." Hank interjected, folding his arms. "He's right."

Connor was quiet, the house going silent for a few moments before Markus finally spoke up again.

"And by the way Connor," Markus started, Connor glancing up at him. "Simon is worried about you."

"Simon-?"

Markus nodded, removing his backpack and setting it down between them.

"He helped gather some extra parts to make you feel better. Your body won't hurt anymore. Do you want to rest while I perform the necessary repairs?"

Connor paused before nodding hurriedly, he didn't want to be awake for this.

"Alright, hold still please." Markus requested, carefully reaching forward to touch Connor's LED.

And then, darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

"Thank you, you're a very courteous host." Markus commented as Hank handed him a cup of coffee, nodding at the lieutenant.

"No problem." Hank muttered, sitting on the coffee table and looking over at Connor.

The android was lying flat on his back across the couch, dress shirt neatly buttoned and blazer set aside. Markus had done his best to repair Connor with the parts he had, but Connor's throat had been a serious mess. The main problem was that Connor's throat contained biocomponents completely unique to the RK800 model, meaning that Markus had no idea how to repair them and had no parts to replace them with. Everything else had been fairly easy, and he had managed to aid in fixing Connor's plastic to some degree. He hoped having his body back in mostly working order would help Connor feel better, if only to some degree.

Markus sipped his coffee quietly, glancing up at Hank. Hank was interesting. Hank was human. If he had to entrust Connor to one person, it would be Hank. Although the man had never said it, Markus knew that Connor meant the world to Hank, and Hank was probably worried sick right now about Connor's state.

"How are you holding up?" Markus asked, carefully setting his mug down and folding his hands in his lap.

"Worried." Hank answered shortly, keeping his eyes tiredly fixed on Connor. 

"That's understandable," Markus agreed, looking down at Connor. "But you're doing all that you can. It's admirable."

"Big words comin' from a guy who lead the android revolution."

"Everybody has to play their part." Markus assured. "Yours isn't any less important than mine. Connor needs you."

Markus' words always came out as oddly empowering, Hank guessed that was probably why Jericho had rallied behind him so quickly. Markus had a way of keeping things calm, keeping things focused on the final destination, keeping people satisfied while also moving forward. That was it, Markus was always moving forward, Markus didn't stop to look back. Hank wished he had that ability.

"So is he gonna be okay now or-?" Hank started hesitantly. "I mean like, I know he's still gonna be fucked up, but his body?"

"He shouldn't be in much pain anymore." Markus confirmed. "Aside from his throat. When he wakes up, we'll see how well his throat is functioning. He should awaken when his diagnostic program is done checking my work."

"And you think you did okay?"

"I'm confident."

Hank nodded, his eyes falling back on Connor as the android's LED flickered back to life, a dim blue. He saw Connor's brow furrow, the android stirring slightly before carefully sitting up, blinking as his eyes adjusted. Hank had the lights fairly dim, it seemed appropriate considering Connor's previous headache over the lights in the meeting room. Connor felt his throat gently, Hank on edge as he prepared to lunge forward at the slightest indication that Connor might dig his nails in. Connor prodded carefully at his skin before swallowing and moving his hand away, observing his arms instead. 

Connor looked like he was in perfect condition. It was like nothing had happened, Markus had even cleaned away the blood from his skin. He took a deep breath, noticing the strange catch in his throat. He assumed that wasn't repaired, Jericho wouldn't have his specific prototype of throat sensors, nobody but CyberLife would. He swallowed, glancing up to meet Hank's eyes.

"Mornin', kid." Hank greeted, smiling sympathetically. "How are you feeling?"

"...Better." Connor mumbled, his voice still sounding fairly damaged, though admittedly nowhere near as bad as before. "I...I feel better."

"That's good to hear." Markus breathed in relief, leaning back. "I was hoping I did well."

"Thank you for providing me with the spare parts needed."

"Don't worry about it." Markus assured.

Connor nodded quietly, taking the moment to properly sit up and steady himself. The house was quiet and he was fairly cold, his thermoregulator only just beginning to catch up with the fact that he was now awake. He gently wrapped his arms around himself, glancing down in thought. Part of Connor had hoped that Markus' repairs would somehow make everything better, but while his body wasn't in pain anymore, he still felt sick, he still felt dirty, he still felt afraid. 

"You okay there? You look cold." Hank questioned, subtly reaching for one of the folded blankets situated neatly on the couch.

Connor nodded slightly, allowing Hank to carefully drape the blanket over his shoulders. Hank had been so gentle with him, so painfully gentle, he knew Hank was trying his best not to break him, and that was painful as well. He was fragile. He was pitiful.

"Sumo!"

Without a second's notice more, the large dog came bounding in, hopping up onto Connor's lap and flopping over dramatically. Connor's shoulders slumped, the android instantly feeling more at ease with the comfort of the dog in his lap. He scratched behind Sumo's ear gently, allowing the dog to sprawl across him, overflowing onto Markus, who scratched the dog gently as if he wasn't sure whether or not he was allowed to.

"This is Sumo?" Markus questioned, raising an eyebrow and patting the dog. "I've heard a lot about you from Connor. I hear you're a very good boy."

"I can confirm." Connor assured, rubbing Sumo's stomach.

Hank watched on, allowing himself to relax for just a moment as the boys discussed his dog. It was a change of pace, one that Hank welcomed, one that meant Connor looked a little less dead inside and a little more eager. It was barely noticeable, but it was more than enough for Hank to see. He wanted more moments like this.

"Connor," Markus started after a brief pause. "A lot of people in Jericho have been asking about you."

Connor tensed slightly, glancing up from Sumo to focus on Markus. Markus' eyes practically pierced him, they always had. Markus always kept eye contact, always perfect eye contact, always imposing.

"What about me-?"

"North and Josh want to know what happened." Markus admitted. "I haven't told them. I wanted to respect your privacy, and I'll do so indefinitely. Nobody will know unless you want them to."

"Does Simon know?"

"I...he may." Markus sighed. "I never told him. He figured it out and confronted me, but I told him I couldn't confirm  _or_ deny any accusations. But...that brings me to a question."

Connor frowned slightly. To an extent, he was kind of glad Simon understood, it was one less person to explain the situation to. However, to another extent, he didn't like that it was so obvious what had happened that Simon could guess it without even speaking to Connor once.

"I want to know if you and Hank would like to come to Jericho and explain what happened." 

Connor paled, his eyes widening slightly as they shot back up to lock with Markus'.

"T-To everybody?"

"To North, Josh, and Simon." Markus corrected. "If you don't want to, nobody is going to force you to. If you do want to, it might help you come to terms with what happened. It might help you feel better  _psychologically,_ I've done all I can for you physically."

Connor could barely process all the thoughts on his mind right now, his head was crowded, he was distracted and his mind was all over the place. The nausea in him was overwhelmingly strong, the thought of talking to Jericho was terrifying and yet hopeful, the thought that his throat may not ever be repaired was devastating, the thought that Floyd was still alive was  _sickening_ , all of his thoughts were sickening, he needed to breathe, he needed to calm down.

"Take your time." Markus coaxed. "You don't need to make a decision right away."

Connor nodded shakily, weighing his options. If he told Jericho, Markus wouldn't have to keep secrets anymore. Connor might feel the weight being lifted off his chest again, he might feel the relief of sharing his secrets the same way he had with Hank. It would be immeasurably difficult, but Connor was beginning to find that a little company in his time of need was worth more than he had imagined. Hank was comforting. Markus was comforting. Finding allies in Jericho at a time like this might actually help to pull him out of this.

God, he wanted out of this.

"Lieutenant," Connor began, keeping his voice quiet, finding he didn't quite like the sound of it. "I-If I went, you would come with me, correct?"

"Hell, Connor, of course, I'm not lettin' you out of my fucking sight."

Connor nodded unsurely and considered his options once again. He wanted relief. He wanted to feel okay. He wanted to claw his way out of this hell by any means necessary. He hated the way he could feel his body trembling, trembling like was in ice water. With all that had happened today, it was easy to forget that his encounter with Floyd had only occurred last night. Everything was moving so quickly, far too quickly for Connor's own tastes. Nothing made sense anymore. It didn't make sense why he was shaking, it didn't make sense why he was afraid, it didn't make sense why he was so worried about telling Jericho what had happened. He was a detective, he had recounted hundreds of crime scenes, why couldn't he recount his own with the same level of ease? What was wrong with him?

Connor took a deep breath. He had to do this. If he didn't do this, the thoughts would keep rotting in his head, spoiling him to the core from the inside out, making him feel nauseous, making him feel like his insides were decomposing with every passing second. He would feel sick forever.

"I-I'll accompany you to Jericho on the condition that Hank comes with me." Connor breathed uncertainly.

Markus nodded, Hank standing up as he prepared to get ready to leave for Jericho.

"That's very brave of you, Connor." Markus assured. "We'll be there with you. You only have to tell them as much as you want them to know."

"Th-Thank you Markus."

"Don't thank me. You're doing this for yourself. You're incredibly bold. It's very admirable." Markus continued. "I know you can do it, Connor. You've always been incredibly brave. This hasn't changed that, I can see that much."

Connor took a shaky breath, feeling Markus' words of encouragement soothe his head like a cold press.

"Thank you, Markus."


	11. Chapter 11

Connor was uncomfortable.

Physically uncomfortable. His suit felt like it was weighing on him, drenched in his fading blood and dishevelled beyond formal recognition. He felt sick in his clothes, he desperately wanted to change, but he couldn't bring himself to take his clothes off. He didn't want to feel exposed, he didn't want to feel accessible. Hank had picked up on the little signs that Connor was uncomfortable while Markus had been calling North to let them know about Connor coming over. The subtle fidgets, the frequent itching, the little things.

"You sure you don't wanna...you know-?" Hank trailed off, remembering what had happened last time he had suggested Connor change clothes.

"I-I'm sure."

"You don't look very comfy."

"I don't want to change." Connor insisted, fixing his tie and smoothing his hair back.

Hank didn't know what to do. He felt out of place, like this Connor wasn't the Connor he knew. To an extent, he supposed it wasn't. Everything had changed so much in the span of a single day that Hank could barely keep up with it. He wanted to hold Connor so badly, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, to help him, to  _heal_ him. He wondered what it would take for everything to get better, even just a little. He sighed, sitting down next to Connor, Markus' muffled voice musing to North in the other room. 

"Kid, you wanna talk for a minute?" he mumbled quietly, looking over at the android.

Connor hesitated slightly before glancing over to meet Hank's eyes, still unused to how soft Hank's demeanor had gotten since this morning. He supposed Hank was fairly good at turning his brutishness on and off after being a detective for so long, he had probably been forced to adapt to many sensitive situations. Connor wondered if that's how Hank saw him; a victim of a crime. Something pitiful. He wondered if Hank saw him as a machine who was simply experiencing errors. He wondered if Hank saw him as something fragile. He wondered if Hank thought he was disgusting.

"I would." Connor responded after a moment's pause, furrowing his brow. "I-I have some questions for you."

"You do?"

"I...I need to know what you think of me now." Connor admitted, keeping his eyes down. "I need to know how you see me."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think I'm disgusting?" Connor blurted, his eyes snapping up to meet Hank's, pleading for some kind of answer.

"Fuck, Connor, of course not, why would you think that?" Hank questioned, his expression changing to one of surprise and concern. "You're not disgusting."

It was strange to hear those words from Hank; he was so used to hearing the exact opposite. Hank constantly called him disgusting, mainly when he was doing things that were unconventional by human standards. Things like licking blood, things like touching corpses. Hank suddenly insisting that he wasn't disgusting was a sort of mental whiplash.

"Because I-" Connor paused, trying to find the right words to articulate how he felt. "I feel...I feel  _dirty._ I feel  _infected._ "

Hank frowned slightly, looking over the android. He knew what trauma felt like, he knew what hating yourself and blaming yourself felt like, but he knew that he couldn't truly understand how Connor was feeling. He felt awful, he wanted to do more to help, he wanted to be useful here and he knew that he couldn't be.

"Connor," Hank started before cutting himself off, taking a breath and contemplating what he was supposed to say next. "I don't fuckin' think you're disgusting. You're  _not_ disgusting. Something happened to you that you had no control over, that doesn't change how I think about you. You're still Connor. You're still you, and nobody can take that away from you, okay? No matter what happens."

Connor was quiet, letting Hank's words set in. He was still Connor. Nobody could take that away from him. If that were the case, why did he feel so apart from himself? He felt like an entirely different person, like something in him had been ripped out with a knife and replaced with  _nothingness._ He felt ill. 

"I feel useless." Connor continued softly, furrowing his brow.

"Connor, it's been less than a goddamn day, nobody's expecting you to be saving the fuckin' universe right now."

"What if I never return to normal?"

"I'll be honest kid, you probably won't." Hank sighed. "Normal's gone. But what's important is building a new normal, okay? What's important is moving on from here."

"Moving forward is the best thing you can do for yourself," Markus interjected, returning from the other room and approaching the couch. "But not before you're ready."

"Yeah, you need to give yourself some time first." Hank agreed. "Don't force yourself to get better."

"Are you mad at me for what happened at the Eden Club?"

"Connor, I'm not mad at you, nobody's mad at you. Don't even fuckin' think that."

"Are you mad at me for what I did in the bathroom at work?"

"No. I'm not."

"We were just worried, Connor." Markus sighed. "Nobody's mad. Not at you."

"I'm fuckin' mad at  _someone._ " Hank snapped, a spark of sudden anger flashing through them. "The fuck are we gonna do about this Floyd Mills guy?"

"That's a good question." Markus mused, glancing down at Connor. "I guess that depends on what you'd like us to do, Connor."

"I...don't know yet." Connor mumbled, deep in thought.

Memories of Floyd's yelling wracked his brain, memories of his own voice thanking Floyd for what he had done, memories of apologising profusely for being disobedient. What did he want with Floyd? Did he want Floyd dead? Jailed? Left alone completely? How was he supposed to decide that? Had Floyd even done anything wrong? Floyd was simply using a machine, what was so wrong about that?

He felt nauseous.

"That's alright, you don't have to." Markus assured. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? We'll do whatever you think is right."

"Connor, we're not gonna do anything you don't want, alright?" Hank sighed reluctantly, leaning back. "As much as I'd like to blow the bastard's brains out, it's up to you."

Connor wanted to feel safe. He didn't know what he had to do to accomplish that, but he wanted it. He didn't want to take Floyd to court, he worked in law, he knew what that entailed. It entailed him testifying, telling everybody what happened, putting himself on the line to be criticized and picked apart for details and mocked by the public and accused of lying. He wanted to rot away in silence, he wanted to disappear without leaving a single trace behind, but he also wanted everything to just be  _okay._ He didn't want to go through trials and investigations and testimonies and recounts. He knew as a detective he should easily be able to stand up in front of a courtroom and describe a crime in graphic detail without being phased, he knew that was something he should be capable of.

He felt nauseous again.

"Can we just leave Floyd alone...?" he mumbled hesitantly, hunching his shoulders as he anticipated Hank's response.

He watched Hank tense for a moment before taking a breath, his shoulders slacking as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Kid, don't you want justice?"

"I don't want to testify." Connor admitted quietly, glancing down.

"But he could go on and do it again to somebody else if he doesn't get punished." Hank coaxed desperately, frowning. "People like Floyd don't deserve to just run around free."

"Hank is right, Connor." Markus added, folding his arms. "It's your decision, but maybe you should give yourself a little more time to think about it."

"Kid, you can take as long as you want, we have his DNA, we have footage. If you decide to press charges, you'll win."

Connor knew that much; he had his own memories' footage of the event, it was indisputable evidence. It was just a matter of psyching himself up enough to actually go through with something like this. His head was swarming with thoughts, overwhelming thoughts, too many thoughts, too many  _choices_. His stress levels were rising, he couldn't quite pin down why. He just wanted all of this to go away, he wanted to dissolve into nothing, he wanted to shut down and never reactivate.

"I-I need time." he stammered abruptly, tightening his hands into fists as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "I don't know, I-I don't know what I want, I need time."

"Hell, kid..." Hank mumbled, sighing as he noticed Connor's tears. "Can I hug you?"

Wordlessly, Connor quickly turned and pulled Hank in tightly, sniffling against Hank's shirt as he clung desperately to the older detective like letting go would mean death. Or maybe it would mean life. Connor couldn't quite gauge what was worse anymore. His hands were shaking far too badly for his own liking, the tremors running up his arms, but Hank didn't seem to care, simply stroking Connor's hair as the android cried against his chest. Hank had no idea what he was doing in any of this, he really didn't, and at times he truly did feel completely useless, but at other times, it was clear to him that Connor  _needed_ him. For as long as Connor needed him, he would be right there.

Connor hiccuped softly, his grip on Hank tightening as he felt everything that had been trapped inside his head slip away like liquid, like he had lost his hold on himself, like all the stress and emotion he had trapped inside his thoughts was pouring out into Hank's chest, like he was crying out every ounce of fear he had been holding back. That's what it was, it was fear, he was afraid. Afraid of what could come next, afraid of what would come of the choices he made, afraid of what would come of people finding out what had happened. He felt light, he felt hollow, he felt  _sick_ inside.

He wanted to change clothes.

"I-I need to change," he mumbled quietly. "My...M-My clothes are dirty, I need to change."

"You want me to go lay out some clothes for you?" Hank offered quickly, pulling away slightly and gently putting his hands on Connor's shoulders. "Before we leave for Jericho?"

Connor nodded shakily, wiping his eyes with his mussed sleeve as he straightened his posture slightly. He would be okay, he wanted to change clothes, he wanted to feel  _cleaner._ He watched as Hank got up and walked off towards the bedroom, turning the corner into the room before disappearing. He felt needy, he felt pathetic for the way his heart rate jumped when Hank was out of his sight.

"Connor."

Connor was momentarily startled by Markus' voice, peering curiously over the back of the couch and locking eyes with the deviant leader.

"You're very, very brave." Markus mumbled, keeping his voice soft and low. "Incredibly brave, Connor. I'm proud to know somebody as incredibly strong as you are."

Those words shot a pang of gratitude through Connor. He hadn't thought of himself as strong. He had thought of himself as weak, pathetic, acquiescent, never strong. This didn't happen to people who were strong. But then again, he wasn't one to distrust Markus.

"Alright, clothes are on the bed." Hank interrupted, breaking the pause of silence.

Connor stood, giving a shaky nod to Markus and wiping his eyes again before walking down the hall. Each of his steps felt heavy. As much as he desperately wanted to put on clean clothes, he also didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be exposed. He paused at the door, sighing deeply in thought before turning back to Hank.

"Lieutenant Anderson." he began hesitantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Can um-" Connor took a deep breath. "Can you come here for a second?"

Hank complied quickly, joining Connor in the bedroom doorway and raising an eyebrow.

"Can you wait outside the door?" Connor asked quietly, some sense of shame burning in him at having to ask something so seemingly ridiculous.

"Oh, yeah, 'course." Hank assured, nodding and folding his arms. "No problem kid."

"Thank you Lieutenant."

"Don't worry about it, go get changed."

The door clicked shut.


	12. Chapter 12

Connor was observant.

He noticed the way Markus and Hank exchanged little looks, he knew they were saying things with their eyes that they wouldn't dare say in front of him. Part of him just wanted them to be open, but part of him was grateful that they were staying quiet about what they thought of him. He wasn't sure what he could handle hearing right now.

The drive to Jericho was going to be decently long, it fairly far away from Hank's house. Connor was situated in the back seat, Markus in the passenger seat while Hank drove. Connor didn't find it too surprising that Hank hadn't switched in his old car for something self-driving, Hank was very down to Earth, Hank liked to live a fairly tech-free life. Paper books, old music players, manually driven car, no androids. 

"I haven't been in a car like this before." Markus commented, glancing around. "It's aesthetically pleasing."

"She's been loyal for years." Hank yawned, keeping his eyes on the road. "You like cars, Markus?"

"I don't know much about cars." the deviant leader admitted, thumbing the fabric of his seat lightly. "But they're definitely interesting to look at."

"You got an eye for design?"

"I like to think so. I used to be owned by Carl Manfred, so-"

Hank jerked the car suddenly, startling Connor out of his idle listening as he gripped his seat belt.

"The fucking famous painter-?!" Hank coughed, steadying the car. " _The_ Carl Manfred?!"

"Yes," Markus confirmed, glancing back to check on Connor for a moment. "He was like a father figure to me."

"Sometimes it's hard  _not_ to be a father figure to you fuckin' androids." Hank muttered, glancing in the rear view mirror at Connor before turning his gaze back to the road.

Markus was quiet for a moment, looking out the window, deep in thought. He was happy that Connor and Hank had been able to find the sort of relationship that Markus had found with Carl, and he was glad that they were able to live their life as a family without the constant fear of discrimination. It was what he had fought for, and it was relieving to see the product of his struggles come to fruition. Android and human families living together. That was his dream.

"So what was the guy like?"

"Carl? Oh, he was wonderful." Markus reminisced, smiling slightly. "Absolutely wonderful. He was patient, insightful, intelligent, creative, he was everything I could have asked for."

"Well he'd be proud of you, kid." 

"I hope so." Markus mused, glancing back out the window.

"Are we almost there?" Connor inquired quietly from the back, peering over Hank's seat.

"Almost." Hank assured, his eyes flicking up to the massive cathedral that had become Jericho since the freighter had been sunk. "God, you guys spare no expenses, huh?"

"We've been repairing the cathedral lately, we want it to represent what we stand for." Markus explained. "Something abandoned that became something  _great._ "

"Deep."

"Precisely."

Hank pulled up to the cathedral, parking his car on the grass and unbuckling his seat belt. Nobody moved or spoke for a moment, Connor's eyes focused down. He didn't know if he was ready for this, ready to tell Markus' friends what he had gone through. Albeit, they were his friends too, but they weren't as close as they could be. Markus had assured him that this might be helpful for him, and Connor trusted Markus with his entire existence. He just hoped Markus was right.

"Are you ready Connor?" Markus asked gently, turning to look the android in the eyes.

"I'm uncertain." Connor replied, furrowing his brows and unbuckling his seat belt. "B-But I trust you."

"You don't have to do this if you aren't ready."

"I-I'm choosing to." Connor assured, stepping out of the car.

He was tired, this day had been exhausting for him. He couldn't even begin to guess what tomorrow might bring. Taking a deep breath, Connor approached the imposing doors of Jericho, Markus and Hank quick on his tail. Wordlessly, Markus opened the door, ushering Hank and Connor inside. The building was massive, and Connor's few memories of it read the same story. He remembered putting his entire world on the line in the corner, offering his life to Markus and having Markus give it right back to him. He had stood in this building and made the decision to save his entire race.

What happened to that Connor?

"Jesus Christ..." Hank muttered, looking around. 

"Markus. Welcome back." North greeted, pausing when she noticed Hank and Connor, her eyes narrowing.

Connor liked North, he really did. She was brave and interesting. She also scared the hell out of him, and she didn't fully trust him, so the relationship was slightly strained. However, the hostility in North's eyes that he could usually dismiss with ease suddenly burned up his resolve like a forest fire. Something in his systems told him that the danger was much greater than he thought it was, something he knew what irrational, but something he couldn't help but react to by grabbing Hank's hand as if it would grant him any safety. He swallowed thickly.

North seemed to pause at Connor's sudden spike in stress levels, relaxing her demeanour slightly and looking away. Connor flinched; somehow her icy defence was more concerning than her fiery glare. Then again, he felt a little more relieved now that North's eyes weren't picking him apart. 

"Follow me," Markus instructed, starting towards his office. "North, get Simon and Josh, then meet me in the office."

North nodded and complied, wandering off and leaving Connor and Hank to follow Markus into his office. Connor's grip tightened as the door shut behind him, Hank running his thumb across Connor's knuckles gently in a subtle attempt to calm the android. Connor kept his breathing steady, his eyes locked to the floor. What was he going to say? Was he going to tell them the whole story? How much should they know? What if he broke down? What if they got upset with him? What if they accused him of lying.

A slow chill crept through him, his thoughts and doubts overwhelming him as he considered every possible thing that could go wrong, every possible issue that could arise, all of the reasons that they could hate him. He could feel his breathing speeding up, his heart rate jumping, maybe he wasn't ready for this, maybe he wasn't ready to put himself on the line yet.

"Connor."

Connor was snapped out of his own head suddenly by Hank's gruff voice, his eyes flickering up to meet Hank's.

"You can do this, okay?" Hank mumbled. "You're gonna be okay. They're not gonna be mad. Nobody's mad. You got this."

Connor took a deep breath, trying his best to steady his shaking hands. He could do this. He had to.

"Simon, could you close the door behind you please?" Markus requested quietly.

"Of course." Simon complied, closing the door before taking a seat next to Josh and North, glancing over at Markus and raising an eyebrow.

"Connor needs to talk to you all about what happened today." Markus began, his voice authoritative and yet somehow equally gentle. "I need you all to please show some respect and listen."

Connor swallowed. It was now or never.

"Firstly," he began, trying to hush the tremble in his voice. "I want to express my gratitude for the fact that you all came to assist me this morning."

North gave a curt nod.

"A-And I would like to explain why I had a...lapse in control earlier."

Hank folded his arms, leaning against the wall as he listened to Connor talk. It felt like something was tightening in his chest, something painful grabbing at him as he listened to Connor put his heart on the line. Empathy was a bitch.

"Last night, I-I visited the Eden Club in search of information about a damaged android."

Connor noted as North's entire demeanour changed, her attention suddenly peaking as she leaned forward in anxious anticipation.

"Mr. Mills, the owner of the building, was uncooperative and hypersexual. I-I was made to perform for him before he would answer any of my questions."

"Connor-"

"North." Markus interrupted, leaning against his desk. "Let him finish."

Connor wrung his hands anxiously, he could feel his stress levels rising as he fought back another wave of nervous tears. His memories were constantly pulled back to that night, Floyd's hands on him, feeling so small and worthless and  _scared,_ it all translated to nausea in the present, it all translated to the trembling in his hands and the gritty sound of his damaged voice. It translated into this.

"I...I removed my clothes and performed for Floyd, l-like I was told to, for information." Connor stammered, doing his very best to recount things accurately yet as vaguely as possible. "But he didn't comply with our agreement."

Connor took a moment to observe his audience. Simon's expression was unreadable, simply listening, seemingly offering Connor every ounce of his undivided attention. North's expression was a little more readable; she looked concerned,  _greatly_ concerned, but the same expression was laced with a tone of repulsion that made Connor nervous. North probably thought he was disgusting, and having North think less of him sent waves of cold sickness through his body. Josh's expression was  _easily_ readable, he was worried for Connor. Connor desperately hoped that it wasn't pity.

"He-" Connor swallowed thickly and took another deep breath. "H-He grabbed me by the neck and demanded I accompany him to a private room."

He watched as North paled slightly, keeping a shaking hand over her mouth in obvious shock as she listened. Connor couldn't help but notice the trembling in her hands that was so similar to his own. Simon closed his eyes, looking as if he felt sick just hearing this. Josh listened on, mouth hanging open slightly as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Once in the private room..." Connor started, his thoughts faltering slightly in his head as he searched for the right words. "I was...I was threatened at gunpoint, a-and-"

 _Raped._   _He had been raped._ The word made him feel like his entire body had been frozen over, like he was suddenly going to be sick. His hands balled into fists as he tensed, his stress levels rising rapidly. He swallowed. He couldn't say that word.

"I was used to perform anal and oral sex." Connor mumbled, his words cold and clinical in his own ears, mechanical and emotionless. "A-Against my will. I...I-I begged for Mr. Mills to stop on several occasions and he did not."

North had started crying. Silently, but crying. Connor had noticed it fairly quickly. The entire group's stress levels had risen, each android's reaction different. Connor himself was shaky and  _afraid_ , afraid he was going to be judged, afraid he was going to be hated. North was absolutely appalled, hiccuping quietly against her hand as tears rolled down her face. Simon looked sickened, he looked shaken and perturbed, he was furious that somebody would do something like this, especially to Connor, especially after he had seen Connor's reaction to everything. Josh was in a state of shock. He had learned to expect some awful things from the humans, but not this, not now.

Before Connor even knew what was happening, North's arms were around him tightly, startling him for a moment before his body recognized her shaky form as not posing any sort of threat. 

"I-I understand," she choked out, holding Connor tightly as the Connor's own resolve seemed to crumble, tears jumping to his own eyes. "I understand, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry for  _everything_ , hell, C-Connor-"

"Connor," Simon started, standing and taking a shaky breath. "W-We're here for you, we'll help you any way we can, you're one of us."

"We'll do anything you need us to," Josh agreed, quickly standing up. "Connor, I'm so sorry this happened to you, we'll do anything we can."

Markus looked over at Hank, the detective's eyes focused on Connor as the android was coddled and questioned by his new supporters, North practically spoonfeeding him every bit of advice and experience she had, Simon assuring him that none of them blamed him and nobody was angry, and Josh promising to do everything in his power to help. Connor's stress levels didn't seem to know where to go, flickering as they very slowly lowered, Connor doing his best to give in to the support he was being offered. 

Maybe everything could be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

Connor didn't feel well.

It had started that morning when Hank had left for work. Connor had insisted on going with him, but Hank had been adamant that Connor should stay home and rest. He didn't want Connor anywhere where things could get stressful, he didn't want Connor to hurt himself. Connor had to acquiesce in the end, Hank had made it tempting, Connor couldn't really refuse the offer of staying home and  _relaxing_ a little. His stress levels hadn't manage to lower back to a neutral state, and any chance to get them to that state sounded appealing. 

That being said,  _Connor didn't feel well._

The house was almost dead silent, save for his breathing and Sumo's occasional commotion. He was left alone with his own thoughts, and they were swarming. He drew his knees up to his chest, leaning back into the couch and swallowing. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to focus on moving past this episode, whatever it was. His senses felt overwhelmed, the silence felt deafening, and the electrical buzzing feeling in his throat had become agonizing. He could feel Floyd's phantom hands running up his legs and back, wrapping around his neck, striking him across the face. Connor felt like he wanted to escape his body, like he wanted to float above it forever and never come back down. He wanted to feel nothing, he wanted to stop feeling like there were bugs running under his skin, he wanted to stop feeling disgusting.

Sumo jumped up onto the couch, something Connor would usually disallow, but having Sumo close had become some sort of a comfort for him. Sumo whined quietly in concern, licking at Connor's face. Connor had noticed a pattern in Sumo's behaviour; the dog would always become distressed when Connor had some kind of episode. He supposed his giveaways were probably the way he made his whole body look  _small_ , drawing his knees to his chest, keeping his head down. The way he trembled, the way his breaths came short and audible, little things that Sumo had learned to pick up on. Connor wondered if he had learned to pick up on things like that for Hank.

"I-I'm okay," Connor assured, stroking Sumo and pulling his face away from the dog's tongue. "I'm okay Sumo, I'm okay."

Sumo didn't seem to want to relent, instead flopping down unceremoniously next to Connor with his massive paws in Connor's lap. Connor stroked the dog with his free hand, Sumo relaxing and lowering his head. Connor sighed shakily, unable to shake himself from the feeling of sickness that had been plaguing him since this morning. He didn't want to be alone right now. Not because he felt unsafe, but because he was worried he was going to do something regrettable and nobody would be there to stop him. His mind flashed back to the relief, the  _overwhelming_ relief of digging his nails into his skin, freeing him from the dirt and filth, blood running down his arms. Relief. He wanted relief.

Connor seemed to snap back into reality, the sound of Sumo's barking startling him as a trail of blue slipped past his vision, causing him to pause. Hesitantly, he pulled his hand away from his head, looking over his fingertips. Blood. Connor bolted upright and rushed towards the bathroom, hurriedly examining his head in the mirror. He had sunken his nails into his forehead, just below his hairline, just enough to draw blood. Connor felt a wave of nausea course through him, he had hurt himself without even realizing what he was doing, he had hurt himself enough to draw  _blood._

Sumo was still barking in the hallway, undoubtedly worried for Connor's safety, though Connor couldn't find the words to call him off. He had hurt himself. He hadn't even realized what he was doing, and he had hurt himself. His stomach lurched as a wave of dread crept through him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he breathed shakily. He couldn't trust his own body anymore and that thought was absolutely  _terrifying._ He couldn't trust himself. Fears rushed through him like chills, what if people thought he was crazy? What if he wasn't worth fixing, what if they had him disassembled? What if Hank didn't want an android who could self destruct at any minute? What if Jericho was disturbed by him, what if everybody left him alone?

Connor took a deep breath, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow as he tried to fight back his own thoughts. He had worried that Hank would hate him, and Hank didn't. He had worried that Markus would hate him, and he didn't. He had worried that Jericho would hate him, and they didn't. His fear wasn't reliable. He knew that. His own thoughts weren't reliable, his doubts weren't accurate. More and more he felt himself feeling better once he had put his trust in the hands of others; more and more he felt as though letting other people help him was the solution to a lot of his problems.

His head flashed with images of his bloodied arms, bloodied face, bloodied hands, bloodied shoulders. His memories were flooded with the relief of hurting himself, memories of Hank's lost and worried expression as he looked down at Connor on the floor. He couldn't help but imagine what Hank might do if Connor killed himself. His body felt cold as he pictured the scenario in his head. Would Hank be angry at him? Would Hank drink himself to death? Before Connor could even take the thought a second further, he caught his own hand creeping back to his arm. His breath hitching, Connor jerked his hand away, instead grabbing a towel and hurriedly wiping the blood from his face. He swallowed as he looked at himself in the mirror, he was going to have to do something he would rather avoid, he couldn't be alone right now.

His limbs heavy with dread, Connor walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he tried his best to regain some kind of composure, Sumo barking in the background. Taking a deep breath, Connor closed his eyes, his LED flickering with activity as he called Hank's cellphone.

It rang.

It rang again.

It rang again.

Connor swallowed.

"Hank Anderson, the hell do you want?" the lieutenant's voice answered dryly. 

"Hello Lieutenant, it's Connor."

"Connor? Everything okay? Did something happen? Do you need me to come home?"

Hank's words made Connor assume that Hank had likely been paranoid about leaving Connor home alone all morning. He couldn't blame him. 

"...N-No, I'm okay." Connor stated hesitantly after a moment's pause. "It's just...well yes, something happened."

"Why's Sumo barking? Are you okay?"

" _I'm okay._ " Connor insisted once again, taking a deep breath. "I'm okay."

There was a moment of pause where Hank sighed, and Connor felt a sense of sickness inside him as he tried to find the words to explain the situation to Hank.

"Tell me what happened."

"I was sitting in the living room trying to work through some troubling thoughts." Connor started, furrowing his brow. "I was...having some bad memories and bad ideas. I didn't feel well."

"Did you hurt yourself Connor?"

"...U-Unintentionally." 

"Fuck, Connor, I'm coming home, I shouldn't have let you-"

"No." Connor interjected quickly. "You're needed at work, you can't just stay home with me forever."

In truth, Connor wanted nothing more than for Hank to stay at home with him forever, but that wasn't realistic. He wanted Hank to tell him everything was going to be fine, he wanted Hank to hold him and promise him that he wouldn't have to hurt anymore, that all of this was going to be over soon and everything could go back to normal, but  _that wasn't realistic._

"Well I'm not fucking leaving you alone."

"But-"

"Connor, this isn't a fucking debate, I'm not leaving you alone."

"I-I'm sorry." Connor mumbled hurriedly, pressing his head to his hand as Hank's sharp tone flashed through his mind, Floyd's demands rushing to the forefront of his memories.

"...Shit, Connor, don't apologize, I'm sorry I raised my voice. I just want you to be safe, okay? I'm not mad."

"I don't want you to leave work," Connor continued quietly. "You already have an overwhelmingly large disciplinary folder. Captain Fowler would likely not approve of-"

"Connor, either I'm coming home or you're coming here, because there's no goddamn way in hell that you're staying at home alone."

"Then I'll come to work," Connor insisted, straightening his posture slightly and glancing down at Sumo, who had flopped down right at his feet protectively. "I-I think I'll be fine to just stay at my desk and work."

"...You promise me you really think you'll be fine?"

"I promise, Lieutenant."

"Fine, but I'm gonna be keeping a really close eye on you, okay?"

"Affirmative."

"I worry about you, kid. I really do. I'm not doing all this just to be a jackass."

"I understand, Lieutenant."

"Fuckin' hate to say it, but you're important to me. If you're worried about hurting yourself, I don't want you out of my sight."

"I understand, Lieutenant."

"Alright, I'm coming by to pick you up, okay?"

"Alright, Lieutenant."

"Stay safe, kid. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"See you soon, Lieutenant."

Connor sighed at the quiet click of Hank hanging up, his shoulders slumping as the relief of Hank's words coursed through him. Hank was going to come get him. Hank would make everything okay. He would go to work, Hank would make sure he didn't do anything regrettable, and things would be okay. The house was silent, Connor only listening to his quiet pulse in his ears, allowing himself a single moment of calm, allowing himself a single moment of believing that everything was fine, that everything would  _remain_ fine. Maybe all he needed was a few seconds to trust himself, a few seconds to trust Hank, a few seconds of quiet, a few seconds to feel like everything was just as okay as it had always been. Maybe he could get by on just those little moments alone.

Maybe he could get by.


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm sorry."

"Connor, stop apologizing, it's fine." Hank insisted, his eyes focused on the road. "It's only a few minutes out of the office, I don't even  _like_ working."

"Yes, but I've disturbed your schedule." Connor sighed, gently feeling at the cut on his forehead. 

It had mostly healed over, but the fact that it had ever existed in the first place scared him. He didn't like feeling as though he was a danger to himself. He couldn't help but notice how his mind always seemed to be stuck in one place, his mind always seemed to go back to the private room, his mind always seemed to go back to Floyd's hands. They were gritty and callous and disturbingly gentle, gentle until they were grabbing him, gentle until they were choking him, gentle until they were hitting him. Once again, Connor didn't feel well.

He didn't like the way that some things seemed to move on while other things stayed locked in place. His thoughts, Floyd's hands, his stress levels, the tremors in his hands, none of them ever seemed to go away. But everything around him? Everything else moved onward, there was no waiting for time, time couldn't be bothered to let him catch up. Not while there was so much moving on to do. He still had to go to work, he still had to wake up every morning and get dressed, he still had to go through each day minute by minute, there was no time to catch up.

He wondered if having time to catch up would have helped at all anyway.

"Hell, Connor, seriously, stop worrying about it." Hank assured, his eyes flicking over to Connor for a moment. "I'm-...I'm just glad you're alright."

Connor was quiet, deep in thought. The last thing he wanted was to inconvenience Hank. However, it seemed like even when he wasn't around, Hank had Connor on his mind. He could hear it in Hank's voice when he picked up the phone; Hank had been thinking about him all morning. Connor hoped he had still managed to get some work done. He glanced out the window as Hank pulled into the precinct, parking the car and pausing for a moment before looking over at Connor.

"You sure you're okay to go in, kid?" Hank muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"I am." Connor assured, though he really wasn't.

This morning, he would have promised that he was completely capable of working, but after having his own body and mind betray him so many times, he genuinely just couldn't know anymore. His thoughts jumped back to where he had stood in the bathroom: Bleeding, slumped against the wall on the cold tile floor as his skin burned like it had been bleached eight times over, Gavin frantically trying to pull Connor's hands from his arms as he tore himself apart. 

 _Gavin_ , that was somebody interesting to consider. Gavin had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he could have just as easily left the second Connor told him to. He could have left the bathroom without another word, gone back to work, and Connor would have died. He flinched slightly at that thought, he genuinely would have died if Gavin hadn't run to get Hank. It confused him a little; Gavin was supposed to hate him, that's just how it was, that's just how it had always been. He wondered if Gavin cared about his well-being at all, or if he was simply acting out of shock.

"Alright, just- if you need to go home, we'll go home, okay? Just say the word and we're gone."

"Understood, Lieutenant."

"Okay, okay."

Connor trailed closely behind Hank as they entered the building, passing through the lobby as they proceeded to their desks. Connor's thoughts of Gavin were still pressing, Gavin hadn't had to help him. Gavin wouldn't have been blamed for his death. Gavin had chosen to run and get Hank, and for what? He hadn't gained anything. He hated Connor, he hated Hank, so why had he done such a favour for them both? Connor just wanted to know what was going on in Gavin's head, that was all. He imagined it must be a lot more interesting than the repetitive thoughts coursing through his own head.

As Connor walked across the room, he couldn't help but notice the way things quieted. Eyes were locked on him, people were whispering, he was the focus of everybody's attention. He wasn't particularly surprised, he imagined that the department's token android detective violently ripping his skin apart in the bathroom would make office news fairly quickly, but knowing how logical it was didn't make his skin crawl any less.

He didn't like it, he didn't like the way everybody's eyes seemed to follow him, like he was something to be observed and picked apart, something to be fed upon, some kind of spectacle. It made him feel like he was rotting from the inside out, like a pit of shame in his stomach was growing to completely overwhelm him. He swallowed thickly, picking up his pace to stay near to Hank as possible as they walked, Connor's hands trembling as a frigid sickness began to creep up on him. He wanted everybody to stop staring, he wanted everybody to stop  _whispering._

Hank shot a few dirty looks that silenced some officers, clearly not pleased with how things were being handled by his colleagues. Connor appreciated that to some degree, it quieted some of the whispers, it lifted some of the crushing weight off of his chest. Connor took a shaky breath, sitting at his desk as Hank sat at his own. Connor was reluctant to activate his terminal, he knew what he would find on it. He would find the footage of his investigation, he would find all of his evidence points, he would find the DNA sample of Floyd's ejaculate, and he would find a recount of what happened at the Eden Club. He didn't know if he was ready to see those yet. 

"I scrubbed your terminal."

"Ah- Pardon?" Connor questioned, glancing up to meet Hank's eyes.

"Moved the Eden Club case over to mine, your terminal's clean." Hank repeated, keeping his voice hushed and nonchalant.

"...Thank you, Lieutenant."

"No problem." 

Connor activated his terminal, quietly perusing his files. Nothing particularly interesting had happened lately regarding his other cases, which - given his current state - he couldn't be more pleased about. Preferably, they wouldn't have another  _eventful_ case for a while. He sighed and glanced up, peering around the room. Most officers were working away or chatting with their colleagues and partners, some about cases, some about weekend plans. He would occasionally be spared glances, glances that sent hot chills of shame up his spine. Nobody's eyes lingered long, but it was long enough.

And then, his eyes fell on Gavin. 

Gavin's eyes flickered to him every now and again, Gavin hadn't seemed to notice that Connor was watching him back - or if he did, he didn't seem to care. Gavin's expression was near unreadable; he didn't seem upset and he didn't seem snide, which were the two emotions Connor was used to reading on him. He seemed analytical, he seemed some things that Connor couldn't quite identify.

Connor was conflicted. He wanted to talk to Gavin, he wanted to thank him for saving his life, he wanted to thank him for not leaving him to bleed out on the floor, and he especially wanted to thank him for waiting in the meeting room for Connor to  _wake up_ after. Had Gavin been worried about him? Connor wasn't sure, but regardless, he felt as though Gavin at least deserved some acknowledgement for his actions, some gratitude. After all, to some extent, Connor was quite grateful. If he had died in the bathroom, he couldn't imagine what kind of state Hank would be left in, and that worried him. To another extent, he was just so damn  _confused_ as to why Gavin had decided to save him at all.

His eyes followed Gavin as the detective got up, taking his mug as he walked back to the break room.  _Likely getting coffee,_ Connor noted, taking a deep breath before standing, Hank eyeing him suspiciously.

"Where are you going?" Hank questioned, a slight nervous edge to his voice that Connor found it hard to ignore.

"I'd like to speak to Detective Reed, if that's alright."

"Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, that's fine."

Connor gave Hank a curt nod, briskly proceeding to the break room in pursuit of Gavin. He had no idea what he planned to say, but he felt the need to say  _something_ , Gavin at least deserved that. When Connor arrived in the break room, Gavin didn't acknowledge it, simply waiting for his mug to fill up with coffee as he jammed his hands in his pockets idly.

"Detective Reed."

Gavin's gaze snapped up to look at Connor, the detective raising an eyebrow.

"The fuck do you want?"

"I...wanted to speak with you for a moment, if that's alright with you."

Gavin eyed him suspiciously for a moment, taking his mug from the coffee machine and leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, okay, shoot."

"I feel as if you are owed some kind of explanation." Connor began, his resolve chipping slightly as he began to second guess his words. "For what happened yesterday, that is."

"Whatever, it's no big deal."

Connor took a deep breath. He could do this. He had done it before.

"Detective Reed," he started, lowering his voice. "Th-The other night, during my Eden Club investigation, I was...I was raped."

The words stuck in his mouth like poison, he had never said them quite like that before, not out loud. They were horrible, burning his mouth like bile as he choked them out, finding it almost unbelievable that  _Gavin Reed_ was the first one to hear them. Gavin didn't speak, his eyes simply widening in surprise as he took in the info, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

"... _Oh._ "

"My lapse in control was due to my high stress levels, a-and I apologize that you were forced to see me in such a state."

"Y-Yeah, well I mean, it's-"

"Thank you, Gavin."

"Eh-?"

"I would have likely died if you had not intervened." Connor remarked, folding his arms. "So thank you. For saving my life, that is. But I need to know, why is it that you decided to help me?"

Gavin was silent again, evidently still processing what Connor had said, his expression a mix of shock and genuine worry and confusion that struck a chord in Connor.

"I mean, I dunno, you were just fuckin' bleeding everywhere, it was just instinct." Gavin muttered, rubbing his finger against his coffee mug lightly, a persistent fidget. "I...You were seriously raped?"

Connor nodded, the words still sending chills down his spine as his hands balled into fists. He didn't think this was the kind of thing he would be telling Gavin, but hell, the detective had  _saved his life._

"I'm so sorry."

Connor hadn't been expecting that.

"Pardon-?"

"That's...That's seriously awful, I'm so sorry that happened to you. Does anybody else know?"

"Lieutenant Anderson." Connor answered quickly. "A-And Captain Fowler, and some of the members of Jericho."

"The guys who were here yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, wow, that's just- That's really fucking horrible."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Don't be fuckin' sorry, you didn't do anything."

"I'm...I'm sorry that you had to see me almost die like that."

"Well you scared the shit out of me," Gavin admitted, sipping his coffee. "But...I'm sorry you had to go through that. That's really, really awful. Was it Mills?"

Connor nodded, swallowing and fixing his tie.

"We'll put him away."

"I don't know if I want to take it to court yet, I-I-"

"You wouldn't have to testify in front of a jury." Gavin interrupted. "We've got your memory, right? We could keep it out of the press. I'll help you put a case together, you don't even have to worry about it."

Connor hadn't been expecting this even slightly. He couldn't help the tears that began to rise to his eyes. He wasn't sad, he was just  _overwhelmed._ He wasn't used to emotions, he wasn't used to Gavin treating him like this. He wasn't used to the level of respect that Gavin was offering him.

"Why are you treating me nicely?" he questioned, his voice laced with doubt and hesitancy, as well as relief.

"I'm a fuckin' cop, Connor. I don't give a fuck who you are or what I thought of you. You're a citizen who had some awful shit done to you and now I wanna help. Plus if there's some fucking psycho out there hurting innocent people then he needs to be thrown the fuck in jail."

Connor's heart skipped a beat.  _People._ Gavin had referred to him as  _people._ Gavin had never thought of him as people, he was always an android to Gavin.

"Th-Thank you, Detective Reed."

"Yeah, whatever, don't get mushy."

"I-I am very grateful."

"Whatever." Gavin repeated, pausing for a moment before sighing. "Hell, Connor, I'm really fucking sorry that happened to you. Hope you can like...I dunno, move on. Get some help."

Help. Help had been making him feel better, help had been lifting the weight from his chest, help had saved him.

"I intend to." Connor assured quietly. 

"Good luck, man."

"Thank you, Detective Reed."


	15. Chapter 15

Connor was having a good day today.

It had started out badly, however. He had woken up in Hank's bed - he woke up in Hank's bed a lot lately - with his heart racing, his form trembling. It had been a nightmare of sorts, as close as an android could get to having a nightmare. A replay of memories, a recount of his night at the Eden Club. He had been in a bad way, and Hank had been quick to calm him, calling Sumo in and offering to handle Connor's chores for the morning while Connor relaxed on the couch. Connor had resisted at first, insisting that he could handle the tasks on his own, but Hank had been persistent. 

Connor had stayed on the couch, reviewing his current case files on his tablet as Sumo laid on his lap sleepily. Every now and again, Connor would receive notifications on his tablet that would bring his mind back to exactly two months ago, back to the exact moment he had entered the Eden Club alone. They would startle him slightly, but they were usually from Gavin. It would be quick messages, wishing him a good morning and updating him on the progression of his case. Gavin insisted things were running smoothly, assuring Floyd would be put behind bars in no time. Connor hadn't heard a single word of his trial in the media; Gavin had stayed true to his promise. Connor couldn't help but wonder how he managed to pull that off, but he chose not to question much when it came to Gavin's work.

It had taken a while for him to actually build up the courage to accept that he had been  _raped._ He would try to beat around the word, saying that he had been assaulted, saying that an incident had occurred, but it had been North who finally convinced him to recognize the truth of the scenario. She had sat him down, held his hands, and they had practiced. She was patient with him, never pushing him to say it if he wasn't ready, never calling him weak or cowardly. In honesty, it had been extremely difficult for Connor at the start. He would barely be able to get the words out, his voice shaky and uncertain. North would listen and respond calmly, assuring him,  _you were raped._ He would parrot back, and over time, it had become easier. Albeit, never  _easy_ , but  _easier._ When he was finally able to say it with some level of confidence, North had hugged him tightly and he had hugged her back, not daring to let go as he cried against her shoulder. She was proud of him.

Simon had been an ally that Connor hadn't quite expected. He didn't seem to really know what he was doing, but he seemed to  _want_ to, constantly doing research and adopting new skills to help Connor when needed. He had become a therapist of sorts, but not one that had allowed Connor to slip into sorrow. He was a good listener, but an even better adviser. He was constantly offering solutions, not all of which were successes, but some of which Connor found incredibly helpful. Every day, he would receive a message from Simon, one reminding him that time wasn't going to slow down for him, and that Connor had to keep up. Those simple words managed to get him moving each morning, even on the mornings where he would rather stay in the dark, even on the mornings where he would honestly rather be dead. Simon was dedicated to keeping him going.

Then, there was Josh. Josh was somebody Connor hadn't honestly spent much time with, after Connor had been raped, Josh had become an asset to his recovery. Josh was smart, Connor had realized that quickly. He didn't know what subject Josh had taught as a PJ500 model before deviating, but he wondered if it might be psychology. Josh had helped him cope with so many of his own emotions, explaining his feelings to him in a way that Connor could understand. Connor was a logical thinker, and Josh was aware of that. If he explained Connor's irrational actions and feelings from a logical standpoint, Connor felt worlds better about them. It was relieving to have a reason behind his actions, it was relieving to feel like his episodes made sense.

Connor had also taken some sort of solace with Markus. While Simon was an adviser, Markus was a listener. He allowed Connor to talk for as long as he needed, venting until his throat felt raw, breaking his thoughts down until his hands shook, and Markus would simply listen. When Connor had finally finished, Markus would remind him how brave he was for getting through this, usually making a comment about how much he admired Connor for his strength and passion, comments that genuinely seemed sincere. Markus never looked at him in a negative light, Markus never judged him, and that meant the world to Connor. He found solace in Markus. 

While lots of things had changed in the past two months, one thing had remained the same: Connor's voice. It was full of static, low-quality and laced with buzzing, sometimes Connor could barely recognize it as his own. Sometimes he would wake up and speak, only to be startled by the damage to his own vocal chords, constantly being reminded of what had happened to him. His voice would probably never be repaired, and Connor had realized that he would have to learn to cope with that, as much as he desperately didn't want to. Perhaps one day the parts would become available, but they certainly weren't now. His throat wasn't in any pain, it was just haunting him in a way he didn't like.

Connor glanced over at Hank as he thought, sighing quietly. Today was going to be a good day, he had promised himself that. Today, he was going to allow himself to be happy, he was going to allow himself to accept what had happened to him, and continue living anyway. It was something he and Simon had talked about quite a bit. He was never going to be able to forget what had happened, he was never going to be able to completely move on and move past it, but he didn't have to. All he had to do was accept what had happened, and  _continue living anyway._

"I don't feel like goin' in to work today," Hank called from the kitchen, washing Connor's remaining dishes. "Wanna go to Jericho?"

"That sounds nice." Connor called back, stroking Sumo.

Hank. Hank had been Connor's rock. While everybody else had their own unique help to the table, nobody could quite be  _Hank._ Hank had been so accepting, so helpful, so caring and gentle and patient that Connor wondered if he was even the same person anymore. Connor didn't feel like he was the same person he had been before the Eden Club, so maybe others had changed along with him. Maybe that was the sort of impact he had on people, he wasn't sure.

His tablet flickered with activity

> _**Gavin Reed** _
> 
> _everything still going well, we got this, dont even worry about it_

Connor couldn't help but smile slightly; even when there was no news, Gavin still put in the effort to check up on him. Even the detective who couldn't stand him was working tirelessly to make sure he was alright. Connor was thoroughly flattered, really, but it would be an understatement to say that Gavin's unrelenting support was unexpected. He and Gavin had gotten closer since Connor had confessed, Gavin had even invited him out to drink once or twice. Hank had reluctantly let him go, and Connor had assured the lieutenant that he was in very capable hands.

Connor hadn't realized how much he needed everybody until he had them all in his life. He couldn't imagine possibly trying to get through this alone, the thought of it terrified him. He needed everybody, and everybody was more than happy to be there for him. Connor didn't know what to think of it. Lately, for the first time in his life, he had been feeling truly  _loved._ People were messaging him all the time, stopping by to visit nearly daily, always asking how he was feeling, always asking how he was doing. It was a feeling of warmth, it was a feeling of change. It was a feeling of recovery.

"Great, I'll get dressed and we'll go?"

"Affirmative, Lieutenant."

Maybe Connor could build a new normal after all.


End file.
